


Hopeful

by FeyNWiddershins



Series: A Matter of Perspective [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Character Development, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Jefferson's Life-shaped Rollercoaster, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyNWiddershins/pseuds/FeyNWiddershins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he was Grace's Papa or the Mad Hatter, Jefferson was a Freelance Portal Jumper with a fast and loose interpretation of morality and a penchant for mischief, running to escape. Then he found a reason to slow down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uncannyland

**Author's Note:**

> This epic-length exercise in self-indulgence began three years ago when I saw "Hat Trick" and instantly fell in love with Jefferson's character. I was really keen, at the time, on the idea of Emma and him together, but I also was fascinated with not only how he went from his Enchanted Forest self to the one we meet in Storybrooke, but why. Bottom line, I yearned for even more character development. So I started a ways back with a hypothetical mother for Grace and built from there. When the second season finished airing and they hardly delved any further into his background I invested even more heavily in that mother figure and this piece stayed a work in progress, pending further revelations. Finally, now with the third season over and his role not reprised I decided this was the time, I was going to do it myself. I tried to remain within the bounds of actual canon so far as I could. There are a few times though, and I'll beg pardon again when they arise, when I came up with a plot point that was later proven anachronistic and I could either not part with it or didn't care to, so they've remained. As such, Mad Swan fans, you will find your fix here eventually, but only briefly and with some reservations because Captain Swan is canon now and I kind of dig it. Thus, this is mostly a Jefferson/Grace's mother fic; you've been warned. Without further ado then, here follows my headcanon for Jefferson, the Hatter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson takes his first trip through the Looking Glass and finds his perspective of things challenged at every turn and in nearly every way. Luckily, he also happens upon a guide.

"This is… different…" Jefferson muttered, to no one in particular. He stepped fully through the looking glass and onto the uncomfortably vibrant path before him.

 

He caught his breath when someone responded.

 

"You're a bit odd yourself."

 

Not someone, something. Jefferson looked for his audience but didn't find one, save for a collection of rocks.

 

"Not two seconds in this world and I'm already going mad." There was a reason he'd avoided the hat's looking glass portal. It boded ill in its fantasticness.

 

That was when he noticed the rocks looking at him. Three sets of eight little eyes. They looked him dead on and quipped, "maybe it wasn't so far a journey. Going mad, that is."

 

"Hmm… Right…" Jefferson pulled his coat closer to his chest and steeled his nerves.

 

The rocks seemed to have the same idea, standing on spindly little legs and with spindly little arms pulling their stony coverings up around their eyes. "Talking to oneself is mad, unless you need an answer, in which case it's self-reflective."

 

The two smaller rocks nodded their assent and the tottered off behind the speaking stone and into the tall grass. Jefferson merely stared. Philosophy from a pebble? This place wasn't getting any better.

 

'Rumpelstiltskin is giving me more than a pouch of gold for this,' he thought to himself. Thing was, he had no idea where this cat was. The imp had merely giggled for him to 'check the trees.' Hardly helpful. And now, now that he was there, he did not want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.

 

"If I were a Cheshire cat, where would I be?"

 

Jefferson waited for an answer, half-hoping that some blade of grass would tell him. When nothing did reply, he considered his path and set on down it, mumbling, "probably in Cheshire."

 

Turned out, there was no 'Cheshire' in this land, at least not according to the baffling, unhelpful signs he found at all the crossroads. The whole place seemed to have been organized by a drunk court jester with a demented sense of humor. The last sign post he'd read had told him he was heading down 'The Wrong Way', though his other choices were 'The Long Way' and 'Backwards.' He didn't even want to find out what that last one entailed, seeing as so far Wonderland had been poetically literal about most things. For instance, he'd never look at horseflies the same way again, not after a miniature horse with wings took a chunk out of his neck.

 

About a quarter mile down 'The Wrong Way' though, Jefferson had to turn back. The path was too bewildering. Everything was upside down or inside out. He'd just witnessed what he'd assumed was a squirrel devour a fox, both wearing their skeletons on the outside. Unfortunately, going down 'The Wrong Way' had gotten him irredeemably lost.

 

"So, going up 'The Wrong Way' doesn't mean you're going the right way," he mused and stared at the new crossroads with a sigh. These were labelled in the strain of 'That-a Way' and 'This-a Way.' He went with 'Anyway.' It seemed a solid choice.

 

Jefferson walked down 'Anyway' for an immeasurable amount of time, since the sun had started on his left, which he assumed was the East, but instead of moving up and across the sky, had stayed level and moved laterally.

 

"This place makes no sense," he complained to himself for the thousandth time, passing under and into a forest of gigantic mushrooms. From the color of them, they looked good and poisonous enough to kill an ogre.

 

Considering the mushrooms, and their almost certain ability to kill him, Jefferson realized it must be late in the day because he was hungry. So, keeping on Anyway, he looked out for something he could eat. Past the mushroom forest lay a field of wildflowers, ringed by trees. It almost looked normal. Until he stepped into the field and was assaulted.

 

"Do you not see _where_ you are walking?"

 

'Yes! Is it in your habit to trample everything you tread past under foot?"

 

"Have you no regard for the smaller lives?"

 

"I was just about to bloom, too!"

 

Jefferson hopped back onto the path, wide-eyed and then just annoyed. "You've got to be joking. Is there anything here that doesn't talk?"

 

"We are most certainly _not_ joking," the petunia shrieked back. "How would you like it if a jolly great oaf just came stomping onto your bed?!"

 

"I…I… oh, forget this." Jefferson rolled his eyes and marched on around the flower field, sticking to the actual path of Anyway. "Talking flowers and stones, inside out animals, what makes sense in this place?"

 

He continued grumbling as he reached the tree line, only to realize that they too were looking at him.

 

"What? You gonna screech at me, too? Berate me for talking to myself?"

 

"No, silly."

 

Jefferson whipped around. He hadn't expected the trees to sound like a woman, at least not a pleasant sounding woman. It didn't seem that they had responded, though, besides shaking their leaves.

 

"The trees don't talk. The Queen forbade it, too opinionated."

 

He turned around again, searching for the source of the voice.

 

"I like your hat. And your coat. You're not from here, are you?"

 

Jefferson reached up instinctively for the brim of his hat. It was a safety blanket of sorts, a facsimile of his one ticket out of this mad world. "No. No, I'm not. How could you tell? And where are you?"

 

"Up here, silly."

 

Jefferson jerked his chin up to find the source of the voice. It was a girl, or a woman, a young woman, perched on the startlingly smooth top of a tree, one foot dangling over the edge.

 

"Oh, you're quite stunning, aren't you? Silly, though, walking _beneath_ The Highway."

 

Jefferson edged closer to the tree line, attempting to squint through the light behind the woman and actually see her. It was no use. She was just a lithe silhouette and a halo of gold hair.

 

"The Highway?" He asked.

 

"Why, yes. The way that is up high, above the trees, the _High_ way. Do you see?"

 

Jefferson snorted quietly, but nodded. It was absurd, but it made sense, or she did. "And how do I get up there?"

 

She giggled, a clear, bubbling sound. "You climb the trees, of course! How else would you get on top of them?"

 

"I don't know," Jefferson scoffed. "I've just begun to assume that, if it's logical, it won't work here." He pulled his hat firmer onto his head and reached up for the nearest branch.

 

"Well, that's just going to get you Nowhere here, and, trust me, you won't like it there. A very unpleasant place, Nowhere, very negative." She continued swinging her one leg casually over to edge of the tree tops as he climbed. "Tell me, stranger, if you're not from here, where are you from?"

 

"The Enchanted Forest," Jefferson replied, swinging his body over a branch and taking a break to catch his breath.

 

"The Enchanted Forest, you say?" She seemed to ponder that for a moment and then resumed in her delighted, jaunty tone, "how is it you could rely on logic in a place that goes by that name? By definition it would be beyond reckoning. Enchantments make things not as they were, so how could you determine how'd they'd be?"

 

"I think…" Jefferson reached up and hauled himself on top of the tree, onto a very level, seemingly man made stretch of wood. "I think that you people here take words a little too seriously, or… literally."

 

"If words do not mean what they are, then what could they?"

 

He sat back, panting a little and shrugged his coat off his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. They can still mean what they are, just… figuratively, like you say animals have coats, but you don't mean literally 'coats' like mine, here. You mean… fur coats, coverings."

 

"Do you?"

 

Jefferson was going to roll his eyes, but then he finally caught sight of his fellow conversant. She did not look like she belonged there, in this topsy-turvy land, or she looked like she was the only one who truly did belong, who was right-side up.

 

"Uh… I--I… I'm sorry."

 

"What for?" She had the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen, now both gazing at him in utter, wonderful confusion.

 

"No, uh, sorry--no. I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Could you--"

 

"Oh, yes, of course." They were even more marvelous molded into half-moons above her smile. "I asked if you really meant that animals did not wear coats."

 

"Do they here?"

 

She pursed her lips into a tight little heart and raised her eyebrows high. "Of course! How else would they keep warm at night?"

 

Jefferson had to laugh at that. After all the oddities, all the eccentrics of that day, her look of sheer astonishment at the idea of animals _not_ wearing clothes pushed him over the edge. He laughed long and loud, even when she did not join in. He laughed even harder at her look of bamboozlement.

 

"Whatever is so funny?"

 

Jefferson wiped a few tears from the corner of his eyes and leaned back on his hand. "Oh, nothing. It's just…" He spotted an apple from the corner of his eye and leaned over to grab it. "Animals don't wear clothes where I come from."

 

"In the _Enchanted_ Forest? Ha. Oh, I wouldn't eat that if I were you."

 

He stopped from biting into the apple. "You wouldn't?"

 

"Unless you'd like to become very small, I wouldn't." She reached over and gently removed the apple from Jefferson's hand. "Wild plants are not for eating in Wonderland. They're for changing."

 

"So that's what this world is called, eh? Wonderland?" He tsked a few times and shook his head. "In my opinion, it's not all that wonderful, more absurd, eerie even, uncanny. I'd call it Uncannyland."  

 

Jefferson looked up with his most bedeviling grin, only to lose it when he found her studying him, all the whimsy set aside.

 

"You're not alone in that," she commented, her voice low, her eyes shifting. "Tell me, stranger, if you're not really from our world, how did you come to be here? Are you a portal jumper?"

 

That gave Jefferson pause, someone knowing precisely his profession. He quirked an eyebrow and shrugged one shoulder. "That is an apt description. How'd you know?"

 

"We have such here, and I've read of the magic hats from days long past, though, I suppose, _those_ hats didn't come attached to you."

 

"No."

 

"No," she agreed, "if you'd been here before, you'd not look so lost, and you wouldn't have tried to cross the Live Flower Beds. They're very vindictive, you know."

 

Jefferson sat back. "You were watching me?"

 

"You were very lost. And talking to yourself. It was fascinating." She swung her leg back onto the platform and then knelt, scooting closer to him. "What in the world were you doing taking 'The Wrong Way'? Can't you read? Nothing right comes by that path."

 

Defeated by the logic of this realm, Jefferson chuckled and removed his hat, setting it on his knee so he could mop the hair and sweat off his brow. "I didn't think it would literally be the wrong way."

 

"Hmmm. Seems very clear it would be. So, what are you looking for here in Wonderland, stranger?"

 

"A cat," he answered, palms pressed to his eyes. "And my name's Jefferson, by the way."

 

"Son of Jeffery? What a curious name."

 

"No, Jefferson. Just Jefferson."

 

"But, it says right in the name, Jeffery son. Son of Jeffery."

 

He sighed. "But, all the same, it's just my name. Jefferson."

 

"Why should it sound like something it's not?"

 

"That's just the way things are in my world. Now…" He looked up to try to get a straight answer out of her on the cat, but the look of flummoxedness was too much for him. "I'm sorry it's confusing… uh, what's your name, then?"

 

She brightened immediately. "Hope."

 

"That's… that's no sort of name!" Jefferson barked out in a laugh. "That's a feeling."

 

"Why, yes it is!" She puffed up on her knees and set her jaw. "My mother brought me into this world and looked upon me and said, 'by night, my husband, this girl looks like our hope!' And so I was."

 

"And what was their hope?"

 

"Why, I am! As I've just told you."

 

"So… your mother looked at you, got a feeling about how you seemed and then called you by the first emotion that reminded her of you?"

 

"Indeed." Hope smiled proudly, held high her chin.

 

"That's absurd."

 

Her smile faltered. "It most certainly is not! I sounds like exactly what it means, me! I am my name and my name is me, what else ought a name to do but call you what you are?" She was unflinchingly serious.

 

Jefferson shook his head and wedged his hat back atop it. It was high time he resumed his search, enough quibbling about semantics. "That's where our lands differ. This place is paralyzingly literal. No sense for the figurative. Well, _Hope_ , it's been interesting talking with you, and thank you for showing me the highway, but I've really got to find this cat before I lose myself in this insanity."

 

She followed him to his feet. "Which cat?"

 

"A… Cheshire cat. Do you know where Cheshire is?"

 

Her brown eyes widened, pupils shrunk. "You mean _the_ Cheshire cat. Jefferson, you can't go there. It's too close to _her_. They're not so friendly in the court to foreigners as I've been. You… you…" She reached up nervously to the cravat tied above the neck of her bodice. "You might _very well_ be lost to this insanity."

 

Jefferson frowned, but decided not to read too much into the swift darkening of her mood. Whimsy came with the world. And, he was there on a job. He was not leaving without that whisker. Maybe this serendipitous meeting could aide in that as well.

 

"You know," he slipped his coat back on and looked over his shoulder at her, best beguiling grin in place, "if you were willing, I could pay you for your services. If the court's unkind to strangers, perhaps I could have an escort."

 

Hope offered a weak smile, but did not meet his eye. "I wouldn't think my presence would be of any service to you, Jefferson. I haven't the most unsullied reputation at the Queen's court."

 

"Well, I could use a guide, either way, and I can reward you handsomely, with _anything_ you'd like. I am a realm traveler." Undeterred, he set off to his right at a slow saunter, noticing her edge along behind him. "You needn't actually _come_ to the court with me, only point me in the right direction."

 

"With anything?"

 

Jefferson stopped and turned around. Hope had planted her feet and her tone was heavy with implications. "Anything I can bring across realms," he replied.

 

She considered that for a moment and then turned in the other direction. "I do have things I have to attend to, you know."

 

"Things that can be done later, or paid off?" Jefferson swept up behind her and joined her on her march.

 

"Well… I suppose if you can really do what you say, then it doesn't matter."

 

"Great. Then, shall we?" Jefferson asked, indicating that they turn back down the Highway.

 

"No. You were going the wrong way. The court's this way. I mean, eventually, they all lead to her, but this way's faster. The cat shouldn't be far, it's been lingering… for stragglers."

 

Jefferson ignored the ominous tone of that last bit and gladly took up step beside Hope. "So, what is it you were meant to be doing?"

 

"I'm a schoolmistress. I teach the children… or I did."

 

"A schoolmistress, those exist here, in Wonderland?"

 

"Of course, how else would little girls and boys learn to give their recitations, or foxes to fox and rabbits to rabbit?"

 

"You… you teach all the young ones. Well, of course you do. Why wouldn't you?"

 

"Indeed," Hope said quietly and then again pulled at her neckerchief. "Are you hungry? I brought some cheese and grapes." She delved into a small satchel fastened at her waist and pulled out a little kerchief-wrapped bundle.

 

"I actually am. Thank you. I don't know how long I've been here except that it's been long enough to work up an appetite."

 

She handed him more than half of her small lunch and then tucked in, still walking. "What is it you need from the cat?"

 

"A whisker," Jefferson replied. "My employer says it has some magic he needs."

 

"No doubt it has magic. Good luck to you getting it. Have you a plan in mind as to how?"

 

Jefferson popped a grape into his mouth and looked up into the sky, the freakishly blue sky. No. He didn't have a plan. Most of these acquisitions of his were made on the fly. Or by his silver tongue. "I suppose I planned on reasoning with the creature."

 

"The Cheshire Cat is mad, sir."

 

"Unsurprising," Jefferson responded mildly. "But even madness has some reason, irrational as it may be. I'm sure the cat has motivations. I can reason with wants. Speaking of, what have I just agreed to bring you?"

 

"Rather, _where_ have you just agreed to bring me."

 

Jefferson stopped abruptly. "What?"

 

"I wish to leave Wonderland. If you can transport goods across realms, surely you can bring a person as well."

 

"No. I can't. The hat's rules. One came in, one will come out."

 

Hope nodded up towards his hat. "But your hat's right there. You've shut the portal, surely you can open it anew and bring me through."

 

"You sure seem to know a good deal about portal travel, but I'm sorry. This is _a_ hat I've made, not _the_ hat. It has no magic." He plucked it from his head and, flipping it over, handed it to her. "See? No magic, just a hat. I'm sorry. I cannot bring you elsewhere. Where would you want to go anyways?"

 

Hope didn't look up from the tree lane below them. "Somewhere not here. It doesn’t matter where."

 

"What happened? Something to do with the court?"

 

"The Queen. I offended the Queen and she… banished me from court."

 

"Is that all?" Jefferson figured not, seeing as she was now clutching tenaciously to her necktie. "That's a lovely neckerchief, by the way, though you're wrinkling it, handling it so."

 

"Oh." She dropped her hand and smoothed it over her skirts. "Oh, no, it's not all, but that is not a tale for this walk. It would spoil the mood and mood is everything. 'The mind makes the man,'" she chimed out the axiom like a chant and then stopped dead.

 

"What is it?" Jefferson bent over in front of her nervously. He was beginning to think she'd acted a little too sane a little too long for any of the denizens of this world. It was about time she slipped. Sure enough, she had a mildly manic smile on her face.

 

"What if I wasn't myself?"

 

"What?" Yes. Yes, she'd spent her sanity.

 

"What if I weren't myself, a human, a living thing? What if I were an object. You have magic in your world, you can change me back!"

 

"Oh, no. No. I don't think that is even remotely close to a good idea."

 

"Good idea? It's brilliant! It's perfectly logical and it simply must work. I'll just be needing some poppy seeds. Then I'll be a little stone statue and you can carry me into the Enchanted Forest, where you can _disenchant_ me!"

 

The look in her eyes frightened Jefferson, but, and this was unusual, it also intrigued him. In most situations, if it didn't come with something for him, he didn't bother with it. She seemed to be compliant and taking him to the cat anyways, he could easily leave her and this mad plan after getting the whisker. But the idea of making this work for her, seeing the pay off if this was her reaction to anticipating the result, it was tempting. And really, he'd brought people across before, found loopholes. He could, _technically_ , do it again.

 

"We'll see."

 

The giggle that blossomed from her pushed him closer to considering it. He had gotten that Doctor to Rumpelstiltskin…

 

"It's this way," Hope tugged on his sleeve and hurried down a sloping path back beneath the trees' leaves.

 

Jefferson let her skip on ahead, watching her go. Her plan might work. He could convince the imp to turn her back from stone. Or he could do it himself, there were magic peddlers, sacred springs, Lake Nostos. He could do it…

 

"What've you got there?" He strolled up to Hope knelt on the ground.

 

"Poppies," she grinned up at him.

 

That was when he spotted it, the only blemish he'd seen on her. And even that was too gentle a term. Because, she didn't have blemishes. She was flawless. No, this was a wound, an injury, something that had been inflicted upon her and sullied her purity.

 

"What's that? Are you covering something with your neckerchief?" He reached down inspect it further, but Hope's hand whipped out. "Ow!"

 

"Sorry!" She grabbed his hand and smoothed over where she'd smacked him. "Reflex. I'd… just rather you not."

 

"What happened?"

 

She shook her head. "Like I said, not the time or place. It's an old scar, nothing to worry over."

 

"A scar from what?" He'd been curious. Now he was disturbed. "Just what did the Queen do to you when you offended her?"

 

"She gave me this scar. Now let's speak no more of it!" She hissed and then softened, "see? Poppy seeds, none of this'll matter soon."

 

But, Jefferson wasn't finished with the topic. That hadn't looked like an old scar. It was angry, and red. If he didn't know any better he'd say it was a fresh wound. But that kind of injury, it wouldn't be hidden by a pretty velvet cloth. He must have mis-seen. Or this place really was impossible.


	2. Madness Is Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More surprises, a meeting with a Wonderland celebrity, and Jefferson is turned on his head.

"What in the name of Merlin was that?" Jefferson ducked under the fluttering of wings and shuddered. He'd only gotten a glimpse of it, but it wasn't pretty.

 

"Oh, that? That was just a horned owl." Hope padded on undeterred. Her unblinking acceptance of all things mad and surreal in this place was the one thing that made her seem like she was from there. She was dauntless. And daunting. Unsettlingly disarming.

 

He could pile words up into a grand throne from atop which he could look down on her and still not describe her in full. But, in that instant, the owl was delaying this.

 

"It had horns…"

 

"I said it was a _horned_ owl."

 

"Yes, but… actual… horns. Like a goat. It looked like some kind of demon." He shuddered again.

 

"No, just an owl."

 

"This place is mad."

 

That made Hope stop and turn to face Jefferson, her hands on her hips. "Now, tell me, what exactly about a _horned_ owl with _horns_ is mad?"

 

Jefferson just shook his head. "If you were from my land you would see."

 

"It sounds as though your land is mad. I don't know however anyone would be sane if everything was said to be one thing and turned out to be another. That would be seriously disconcerting. And confusing."

 

"They're… figurative horns."

 

"Pish-posh. There's that word again. Figurative. If everything were figurative then there would be nothing to be literal about, then it would all just be nonsense. No wonder you're confused."

 

Jefferson took a deep breath and stared at the literal caterpillar crawling across the path in front of him. It was literally a 'cat'erpillar with fur and ears and whiskers. He was confused. He was also beginning to feel as though he was the one who was a little mad. He needed to get out of this world.

 

"Ahem."

 

He looked up at Hope, again with her hands on her hips, but now about twenty paces ahead. She made him feel like he was mad, too, but not quite in the same way. This place frustrated him, was something he wanted to get away from, but she… she made him curious. Confused, but mostly curious, as if she could open his eyes.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Are you coming, or not? Would you rather contemplate the caterpillar?"

 

He shook his head and stepped over the little creature. "No, I'm coming. You know, this literal streak of yours will only be a detriment in other world. No land is quite so strict in terminology as this one. You may want to consider staying." The last sentence was somehow sour in his mouth.

 

"Oh, no. I'll be fine, I'll have a guide as I'm now guiding you."

 

Jefferson found he'd been holding his breath.

 

"But, thank you for your consideration. I simply must leave."

 

"Every time you say that, it makes me wonder what happened with you and the Queen."

 

"It is a good thing you are in _Wonder_ land, then, for you shall continue to wonder at that." Her tone was sharp, just like a schoolmistress.

 

"All I'm saying is that it seems rather important, like, perhaps, something I should beware of as I risk traveling so close to her court."

 

Hope looked up at him, her lips somehow pressed into thin lines. "Suffice it to say that you should be wary. She's very liberal with the axe."

 

"Axe?" Jefferson stumbled. "Did you say axe?"

 

"I did."

 

"Did… is that…" he pointed to her neckerchief, the words not coming to him, his jaw tightening.

 

"Almost. And that is all I shall say on the matter."

 

"Almost?"

 

"Is there a mockingbird here? Yes. Almost."

 

"How can one almost be axed? That's impossible."

 

"Nothing's impossible, Jefferson."

 

"Not in Wonderland, I suppose," he mused, rubbing a hand over his own neck.

 

She'd _almost_ lost her head to the axe. _Almost_. What did that mean? He struggled with the logistics of that idea for several minutes. Had the Queen called it off at the last moment? Had Hope escaped? Was half of a beheading a viable punishment?

 

"Did you… escape a beheading?"

 

Hope sighed loudly. "Quite obviously, elsewise I would not be here."

 

"No, that's… that's not what I meant."

 

"I know what you meant, Jefferson, I was choosing to ignore your blatant disregard of my wish not to discuss the matter further."

 

That shut him up for a while. It had been a long time since anyone had been able to do that. Generally, he just kept on despite their best efforts, whether that be talking, acting, thinking. He was persistent by nature, though. After a few more minutes he couldn't help himself.

 

"Was it an offense that warranted only _some_ beheading?"

 

"What in the world would _some_ beheading entail? That's illogical."

 

"Oh!? That's illogical! Ha! This whole place is a carnival of madness and you deem a case of _some_ beheading illogical." He dug his hands deep in his pockets and fought not to just turn around and march straight back to the looking glass. Without his head on straight, or with this world making it crooked, he felt frustratingly powerless.

 

"There's really only one goal to beheading, Jefferson. Partially beheading a person defeats that purpose. The head's the thing."

 

"Yes, for once that makes sense, but how did you _almost_ get axed? I need to know."

 

"First of all, performing precisely the same act over and again and expecting a different result is the definition of madness, Jefferson. Perhaps you should adjust your perspective on the matter. At least Wonderland abides by its own rules, strange though they may be to you. Do you expect my hesitation at discussing the matter to have changed simply because you've asked about it enough? Your tenacity cannot undo my trepidation. Silly man. Second, 'get axed' is not the proper English. 'How did they _almost_ axe me' is what you meant. And third, I think what should concern you is how I managed not to be _completely_ beheaded."

 

Hope turned around yet again to see why Jefferson was not walking. She hitched her hips to the side and pursed her mouth into a heart again. "Close your mouth, you're not a fish." She reached up and gently tapped his chin shut.

 

"There. That's better. Come along."

 

Jefferson did as instructed: kept shut tight his jaw and followed her skirt tails. They were of a fantastic, intricate patterning. He liked the way they rustled gently, shifting colors in the breeze, the way they fluttered around her ankles, cascaded from her waist. He tripped over a root and decided to pay attention to where he was walking from then on.

 

"Do you know, Jefferson, for what your employer requires the cat's magic?"

 

"I don't. Never ask."

 

"Hmm." Hope glanced at him with nose crinkled, brow scrunched. "Why ever not?"

 

"It's not my business. I deliver it, he pays me. Simple as that."

 

"I hardly think that simple." She leapt lightly onto her tiptoes and snatched away his hat, planting it squarely on her head instead. "There must be a reason he requires it. If the reason is some magical business, whatever enchantment he works will be partially your responsibility. Isn't that your business, your liability? Doesn't that concern you?"

 

"I never really thought about it," he half-grinned as he replied.

 

"Come now, Jefferson. How does that make any sense? I'm beginning to think that your world really is the mad one, or you're mad. What kind of sense does it make to not consider closely the things happening under your very nose? You surely know your actions have consequences."

 

He nodded, a little hesitant. It was uncomfortable being called mad. It seemed hypocritical, but he let her continue.

 

"You see, I must ask because my actions are abetting your own, I do not wish to be complicit in anything _wicked_. Do you see? The chain of causality, of responsibility?"

 

"Yes, but, I'm simply delivering goods--"

 

"Nothing's ever simple when magic's involved. It bends the rules."

 

"--I can't be held responsible for what happens because of those goods. That's his fault--"

 

"But can't you, though?"

 

"No--"

 

"If you know that the sun allows the plants to grow with its light, do you not then find it responsible for the honey of bees?"

 

"Indirectly, I supp--"

 

"Then indirectly you are responsible for the effects of the magic your employer works. Shouldn't that be your business?"

 

"That's hardly--"

 

"Shh!" Hope held out her hand to his chest and squinted up into the trees. "We're close. I can't go any farther. Look for the smile."

 

Jefferson frowned down at her. "The smile?"

 

"Yes, the cat's grin. Now, go!" She whispered and waved him on, not taking another step.

 

Jefferson tore his mind from the confusion she created in him and focused on the path ahead. Then he noticed what had clued her in. It wasn't even very subtle. Normally, he would have noticed on his own. Suddenly, along a perfectly crisp line, the forest went from supernatural shades of green, brown and yellow to stark red. The whole of the trees, leaves, dirt and even air in front of him looked to be some shade or another of garish crimson.

 

"Did you tell her you didn't like red?" He shot back at Hope in a loud whisper.

 

She shook her head hard and pointed him the other way. 'Go,' she mouthed and then set her fists on her hips. She still had his hat.

 

Jefferson decided that that was alright and then tentatively crossed the color line. It didn't feel any different over on the red side, but he kept his eyes peeled, ears alert. A smile. He was somehow supposed to be looking up in the trees, according to Rumpelstiltskin, for a smile, according to Hope. A floating smile in the tree tops. Great.

 

"Looking for something?"

 

Jefferson froze. He'd been walking for a good fifteen minutes, staring up into the trees, with no luck. The sound of the voice was startling. It was more of a purr.

 

"Have you… _lost_ something?" The giggle that followed sent shivers down his spine. The implication to the purring words made him itch for his hat.

 

"Looking for you, I believe," Jefferson answered, shifting his gaze in the direction of the voice. But nothing was there.

 

"Have you found me?"

 

"Your voice… yes…"

 

"Oh, here. Let me help."

 

Hope had been right. The smile was the first thing he saw, though there was nothing happy about this grin. It was demented, ear to ear, curling in manic excitement. This creature was either psychotic or about to eat him. Maybe both. She'd just forgotten to mention the fangs. It was a big cat.

 

"Better?" The teeth crooned, soon being joined by whiskers, then striped fur, then two blood moon eyes. Soon there was a full cat leering down at him from the branch above his head.

 

"You could say that."

 

"I could and I have. So, little, looking man, why were you looking for me of all Wonderlanders?"

 

Jefferson took a step back to give his neck a rest and then held out his hands. "A favor."

 

"Ooo!" The cat's eyes lit up, literally. "A favor. My favorite favors have good flavor. What will I get in return?"

 

"What do you want in return?"

 

Somehow the cat's grin grew even wider. "When question answers question, no one gets their re _quest_." He cackled wildly at his pun and then simply disappeared.

 

Jefferson whipped around on the spot, searching for the cat's grin, only to turn back and face it head on. Its nose was alarmingly red.

 

"I would _love_ your hat," he purred, slowly floating to the ground.

 

"My hat. What do you know of my hat?"

 

"That it's delicious. And not here."

 

"So you know what you want is impossible and yet you're still asking for it."

 

The cat blinked one eye then two at Jefferson, slowly rolling over on the spot. "Nothing's impossible."

 

"No, not in this case. My hat doesn't work by your world's rules. This is impossible."

 

"I know."

 

"And you still want it?"

 

"Maddening isn't it?"

 

Jefferson snorted and then squared his stance again. "No. Just impossible. Ask for something else."

 

"Your hat," the cat's stripes began physically separating from it as he spun in midair.

 

"I already told you--"

 

"It's impossible, I know. But I want it." He seemed to be reveling in Jefferson's growing frustration.

 

"Okay, you _want_ my hat, but you can't have it. What else do you want?"

 

"Thumbs."

 

"You're mad." Jefferson turned to leave, but the cat appeared in his face again.

 

"We're _all_ mad here! But… I'll ask for something else…"

 

It's stripes re-assimilated, only for its non-striped fur to begin disappearing.

 

"… yes?"

 

"Oh! I know." It grinned even wider now, red of its eyes shining. "Bring me the kerchief of your little traitor friend."

 

Jefferson's face dropped. "Her neckerchief?"

 

The cat nodded wildly, its head wobbling off and rolling away as it continued to nod. "Yes. I want her neckerchief. I want to taste it!"

 

Jefferson fought the urge to punt the cat's head and crossed his arms. "Fine. I'll ask, but don't you want to know what I want first?"

 

"The whisker? Yes. I'll give you a whisker."

 

"How… how did you…"

 

"Know about the whisker? Well, you've asked me already, haven't you? Or haven't you. I can never keep it straight." It giggled lazily and reappeared in full at eye level with Jefferson. "One whisker for one neck…erchief that missed the blade!"

 

"Great…" Jefferson eyed the cat carefully and began backing away. "I'll be right back."

 

"Or left front!"

  
He walked away to the peels of the cat's deranged laughter. Hope wasn't going to like this.

 

"Did you convince the cat?" She asked with a cautious grin as she saw Jefferson approaching.

 

"No. Not yet. He wants something in return."

 

Hope rolled her eyes. "Of course. What is it?"

 

Jefferson weighed his words. Maybe the whole truth the first go was best. "He wanted my hat."

 

"Your _hat_ hat?"

 

Jefferson nodded.

 

"But you can't give him that!"

 

"I know, so… with some coaxing, he requested something else."

 

"What?" Hope was completely guarded now, could tell something was off.

 

"Your neckerchief. He wants your neckerchief, says he wants to taste it." He shrugged off a shudder.

 

Hope reached for her neck. She was immediately suspicious, Jefferson could see that and he didn't blame her, but she also seemed to be contemplating it. "Taste it, he said?"

 

"Yes. Or in other words… 'one whisker for one neckerchief that missed the blade'…" Jefferson cringed as Hope's face contorted.

 

She looked like she wanted to scream or thrash him or maybe just dart off into the woods and not look back, but instead she relaxed her jaw, smoothed her brow and took a deep breath.

 

"Fine."

 

"Fine?"

 

"Yes. Fine. But you had better still intend on taking me with you, Jefferson." She shook a finger at him and then reached up to her neck. "And don't stare. It's rude. And no questions." She untied the neat little bow and unwrapped the shimmering velvet from her neck. In the light of the forest it looked like a red grin stretching over and around the left side of her neck. Jefferson could swear it was shining.

 

He averted his eyes and held out his hand, into which she dropped the still-warm piece of cloth.

 

"I'm keeping your hat, in exchange."

 

"Fair."

 

"And you're going to ask your employer what he needs this whisker for before you give it to him."

 

"Yes, fine." He turned away, becoming a little impatient.

 

"And… Jefferson?"

 

He looked up into her face.

 

"Thank you for not staring."

 

Jefferson bobbed his head at her bashful smile and began his trek back to the cat, himself fighting a grin.

 

"Ooo! I didn't expect her to give it to you!"

 

Jefferson nearly jumped out of his skin as the cat appeared at his shoulder. "So you asked for something else impossible?"

 

"Nothing's impossible, obviously." The cat fed a claw delicately through the folds of the neckerchief and lifted it from Jefferson's hand. "Mmm, still warm."

 

Another shiver streaked down Jefferson's spine, but he kept still. He was not going to show weakness, especially not that the cat's tail flicking around his other ear made him want to crawl out of his skin.

 

"Now, the whisker."

 

"What whisker?"

 

"The one you agreed to give."

 

"The what to whom?"

 

"The whisker you agreed to give to me in exchange for the neckerchief!" Jefferson snapped.

 

"Oh! Oh, yes." It was rubbing its nose in the fabric of Hope's kerchief. It stopped to reach up and pluck a long, wispy, purple whisker from its snout. "There. Whisker. Goodbye, Hatter."

 

By the time the whisker floated onto Jefferson's palm the Cheshire Cat had nearly completely disappeared, its unsettling, toothy grin just fading away. Jefferson quickly slipped the silky hair into the leather pouch he kept in his coat and then jogged back towards Hope. When he got to her she was toeing a turtle out of the path, or at least it _looked_ like a turtle, her hand covering her neck. He sighed, relieved she was still there and then surprised at his relief.

 

"Did you get it this time? He didn't disappear beforehand, did he?"

 

Jefferson shook his head and tapped his breast pocket. "No, it's right in here. Here." A pang of guilt made him reach into another pocket and pull out his silk handkerchief. "Take this." He folded it into a tight sash and handed it to her.

 

"Thank you," she said quietly, taking the cloth and tying it neatly around her neck.

 

"You're welcome. It suits you, anyway. And I wasn't using it." He reached out and straightened her knot, before dropping his hand and clearing his throat. "Now… back to the looking glass. Which… way…"

 

Hope ran her finger over the kerchief as she thought. She seemed to like the feel of the silk. "What did it look like? The place where you stepped into this world?"

 

"Really tall grass. Tiny, living rocks. Startlingly yellow pathway."

 

"I know the area," she said, then looked up through the leaves of the trees above. "But we won't make it there before nightfall."

 

Jefferson followed her gaze, looking up through the trees at the sky. There in the center was a little circle of black, smattered with stars. "Nightfall?" He wondered aloud.

 

"Yes, before nightfall, the night falls over the sky, pours almost."

 

"Hmm," Jefferson chuckled without humor and nodded. "Yes, of course. So? What about it?"

 

Hope clicked her tongue lightly. "I suppose it'll have to do," she thought aloud. "Well, you see, if you have difficulty with Wonderland during the daylight, you'll be ever so lost at night. It'll be best if we pass the night at my house. It's near half-way."

 

Jefferson didn't like the idea. He wanted to get back to the looking glass and out of Wonderland as soon as possible. However, if Hope was right, and he had a feeling she was, it didn't sound like traveling by night would do him any favors. Besides, maybe it would give him an opportunity to find out more about Hope and her mysterious partial beheading.

 

"And you don't mind--"

 

"Not at all, not at all. I have a guest room where you'll be perfectly comfortable. Ever so often the Bishop comes to visit me."

 

"The Bishop, eh?"

 

"My uncle, yes."

 

"Hmm." He fell into step beside her.

 

"Yes, and then I'll make us some tea and we can have a proper chat."

 

"A chat I can have, I don't like tea."

 

Hope laughed, brightly and without malice. "Of course you do, silly. Everyone likes tea once they've had it the right way."

 

The walk to Hope's house was more pleasant, the conversation dominated by her idle chatter, telling him this and that about the trees or the animals. Jefferson was a little flummoxed by his encounter with the Cheshire Cat, so his input was minimal. An answer here, a comment there. But it wasn't a problem. He found he liked hearing Hope talk. She was good at it and had an interesting way of going about it. Always very proper but with the most peculiar words, the most distinctive turns of phrase. Perhaps that was her version of strangeness, wonderfulness, her mannerisms. So much better, in Jefferson's opinion, than others'.

 

"There are thrice that species of caterpillars, all of different sizes, though that is unpredictable as the food they eat sometimes changes their dimensions. Believe you me, you do not want to see a dogerpillar that's eaten a growshroom. It is not a pretty sight. Ah, here we are." Hope stopped in front of a small garden fence, brown and mossy, and pushed the gate open.

 

The place looked like it had been a prim and proper cottage once, before the forest took it over. Some white and red peeked out from beneath the vines and moss, but for the most part the building and its garden and fence were cool, earth tones. It blended right in with the surrounding woods. The place was the most muted in color of all Wonderland Jefferson had yet seen.

 

"How long have you lived here?" He asked, astounded. She didn't look old enough to have an ancient home like this.

 

"Oh, not very long, a few years. It was abandoned when I found it. The woods gave it back so I could use it."

 

Jefferson thought on that last bit but didn't ask as he followed her inside. It was just as earthy inside but cleaner. He could see Hope's personality in the place, what little he knew of it already. Things were neat and ordered by their own Wonderlandesque logic. She even had a big clock, though it didn't seem to work, or not by any standard Jefferson could understand.

 

"Yes, excellent, just in time." She swung around to start a fire in the hearth and nodded out the window.

 

As he watched, the sky fell black, as though a curtain had been dropped from above. Jefferson shook his head. "Nightfall."

 

"Indeed. Now, I'll make some tea, do you like sandwiches? Yes? Good. You may go just right in there and make yourself at home. There's a pitcher if you'd like to wash." Hope nodded to a door up the hall and busied herself with a mismatched tea service.

 

Jefferson took the opportunity to investigate the place. There wasn't much there, but what there was didn't seem like things she'd want to part with. A chest of rich fabrics, a great intricate mirror, that tea service that she was handling with such care. That could be a problem.

 

He strolled back into her sitting room from washing up and asked about it. "You know I can't bring any of this with us, don't you?"

 

"What's that?" She looked up from stirring in some sugar. "Oh, these things? That's quite alright. They're only things. I'll find more. It's my head I can't replace."

 

"About that…" Jefferson hung his coat on a rack and then sat across from her.

 

"Yes, yes. I know-- oh, hold on." She stood and bustled out of the room, coming back in a moment later carrying a lush blue floral kerchief. "Here. You can have this back."

 

Jefferson shook his head, and Hope dropped her hand from his silk handkerchief. "No. You keep it. For your other one."

 

She smiled softly and folded the other cloth in her hands. "Thank you."

 

"Mm-hmm. Now, as you were saying…"

 

"Yes, quite right. I owe you that explanation. Here, tea first." She handed him a cup and saucer and took a sip from her own. "Comfortable? Good. To begin with, you should know, I'm not this person anymore."

 

That peaked his interest. Jefferson sat forward and took a careful drink from his tea. It was warm, it was creamy, and it was delicious. She was right. He leaned his elbows on his knees, to balance the cup and saucer, and to better see into Hope's face. He didn't move for the length of her tale.

 

"As a child, I was a little lady-in-waiting of the princess. That princess became the Queen while I was still quite young, but I was kept at Court as a lady-to-be. My mother had been the royal governess, so when she died, the position was left to me. I took it. Many things are taught at Court, as are many young ones. They are just not the same things I was taught. The first time the Queen discovered my… unorthodox curriculum she had me flogged. I had been a companion of hers, after all, some mercy was due me. But the second time… she was not so forgiving and all the more blood thirsty. Heavy is the crown upon the head, fast it drives one mad."

 

Hope paused to drink from her tea, to slip a sandwich onto Jefferson's saucer. "Eat. Please," she nodded and then continued.

 

"My father had been an apothecary. As a child I learnt all the plants and fungi, flowers and fruits and precisely what they did. When I had been punished for the non-royal-approved lessons, I began to prepare for the next time. All actions have consequences. There is a small berry that grows in the wood behind the palace. The animals eat it and frolic around as if drunk. My father called it a dreamberry. When dried and ground, it can be mixed into anything, food, drinks or even just blown as a fine dust into one's face and it will cause nigh on instant sleep."

 

Jefferson swallowed audibly and looked down at his tea.

 

"Oh, you needn't worry! I wouldn't use it on you, silly. I need you awake to get me out of here." Hope tittered lightly and took another sip.

 

"As I was saying, I began collecting the dreamberry and drying them, and every day I would practice holding my breath until the day I could do so for several minutes, for the amount of time it would take for the powder to disperse. From that day on, I began wearing my kerchiefs, beautiful, luxuriant, rich kerchiefs. Red and plush and velvet, pieces the Queen would never want to ruin. And in their folds I would pack ground dreamberry. When the day came that I was discovered and dragged to court, I was wearing just such a kerchief, filled with dreamberry powder. As I stood with my head held high, the executioner to my left, the Queen saw my kerchief and demanded it be removed before my head. The executioner complied and found himself with a face full of dreamberry powder. Unfortunately for me, it was not quite enough. It took one second too long for its dust to take effect."

 

Hope met Jefferson's eye with a wry grin.

 

"He was a large man, you see. But I escaped with my neck and my head intact. The Court was astounded by the giant's fall and I was able to slip away in the commotion. I have not returned since. Nor will I. Every day I dread the royal guard will find me in my backwoods school, in my shabby cottage. That's why I need to leave Wonderland, Jefferson. To escape the Queen."

 

Jefferson finished off his tea and sat back. "You're a very clever woman, Hope. You might just make it in the Enchanted Forest."

 

She sat up straight and puffed her shoulders up. "I very well shall, thank you very much."

 

She would, she had useful talents and a tenacity that would prove helpful. She was also disarmingly charming in her own way. Or maybe that was just to Jefferson. Perhaps he could employ her. Knowledge of the local plants could have gotten him out of some tight spots in other worlds. So would have those dreamberries. And he like to hear her talk.

 

"If you stick with me you might do better than just making it."

 

Hope cut her eye at him and tilted her chin down. "Is that an invitation, Jefferson?"

 

He shrugged, playing off the flush he felt rising by reaching for his sandwich. "If I can turn you back from stone, that is."

 

"Very well, be as aloof as you please," she responded when he didn't meet her eye. "And I'm sure you will." She stood to refresh his cup and plopped his hat back on his head. "I trust a man in a hat, especially a handsome one."

 

Jefferson smirked. She was rather forward, but… so was he usually. "You know what we should get before we leave? Some of those dreamberries."

 

"Oh, Jefferson, silly. I'm never without them." She opened another leather pouch she'd had tucked in her bodice. It was full of dark grey powder. Just smelling it Jefferson felt woozy.

 

"That is strong stuff."

 

"Yes. And it's not even all of it. I have three other pouches. That should do until I find something comparable in your world." She cinched up the pouch again and then glanced over his shoulder at her clock. "Well, a lovely tea this was, but this is a short night. We should try to take some rest while it lasts and leave here as soon as dawn rises."

 

Jefferson looked down at his unfinished tea. He wasn't tired. Not even a little. He wanted to hear more about Hope, drink more of her tea. Not sleep.

 

"Come, come. No dawdling." She was already up, clearing the service.

 

The tea was good. He liked her tea, it seemed a waste not to drink it, so he tossed it back in one gulp and handed her the cup.

 

"Thank you! Now off to bed with you. Quick as you like!" She shooed him from the sitting room after taking his hat and hanging it beside his coat. "There are linens in the chest at the foot of your bed. Goodnight!"

 

Jefferson tottered out of reach of her swipes and then reluctantly trudged to the guest room. Begrudgingly he lay down on her straw stuffed mattress, kicking off his boots but leaving everything else on, staying on top of the blankets. There was no point getting comfortable. He wasn't going to be able to sleep.


	3. One in, Two out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back through the Looking Glass and a little change in perspective. Literally.

As he lay there, staring at the ivy roots in the ceiling, Jefferson pondered what Hope had said about his work. He'd never thought about his role in Rumpelstiltskin's machinations, not even questioned what he was told to do if it meant he was paid. And Rumpelstiltskin had done some fairly horrible things, had twisted some pretty powerful people in wretched ways, people who could, if they followed Hope's chain of logic about responsibility, wreak some terrible revenge. That thought made his stomach turn. His own queen had been the victim of one of Rumpelstiltskin's most ruthless manipulations executed through whom? Jefferson. Down to his eavesdropping and offering something 'even Rumpelstiltskin couldn't do' so she'd take the bait. It'd been maniacal, and fairly despicable. And now she was an evil, magic-wielding queen because of it. And heart-broken. If she found out his role, he'd possibly lose worse than his head.

 

And that was just one job. He'd done countless more... Was he having a crisis of self? And all because of a woman? A very intriguing woman with immersive eyes and a voice that made him feel warm. Hell, for a moment he'd considered not getting the whisker and just hauling her through the looking glass as soon as possible to get her away from the psychopath that'd nearly sliced her head off. But that had been a fleeting thought. Money had won out. Though, maybe something in between was reasonable. He could work but only on what was morally tenable… Or only on what wouldn't come back to bite him. Or what Hope was alright with?

 

That was a little fantastical. And ridiculous. He always made his own decisions. Did things by his own book. That wasn't going to stop any time soon.

 

Jefferson clicked his teeth together. This was an insane argument he was having with himself. Wonderland was getting to him. But he was still struggling with it, even after admitting it was mad. Was Hope right?

 

"Damn it!" He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

 

Luckily, dirt floors were easy to traverse quietly. He'd grabbed his coat without a sound and found himself standing there in the sitting room. He could easily just leave, right then, right there and forget about all this, all his indecision thrown to the wind, go back to the ways things have always been. But then, he wouldn't be sure. There would always be that tickle of curiosity of what might have been if he'd stayed, of what Hope might have done when he helped her. That helped make his mind up. Jefferson shook his head at himself but shouldered his coat and padded back to his room.

 

Pulling out the pouch with the whisker in it, he grabbed it and began running it through his fingers thoughtfully. He could ask what the whisker was for. That would be simple enough. If it could end up putting in him in the path of someone's revenge, he could refuse. 

 

That's what he'd do. He would talk with the imp. He didn't need any more possible violent reactions to his trade hanging over his head.

 

Jefferson ran the silky whisker across his knuckles one more time and then slipped it into his satchel.  Suddenly, he felt tired. Maybe he could sleep.

 

It felt like a mere instant in between him lying back and closing his eyes and then Hope rapping on the door. A short night indeed. 

 

"Dawn's rising, Jefferson, I've got scones and cheese and some orange for the walk. If you hurry we can gulp down some tea before it's completely risen."

 

Jefferson opened the door before she'd finished.

 

"Oh! Good morning. Did you get any rest?" She looked him over and then stepped aside. "I warned you it was a short night."

 

He shrugged and grabbed his coat off the bed. She eyed it suspiciously.

 

"Consider leaving in the night?"

 

"I did, but then I changed my mind."

 

Hope was grinning when he looked back up from checking his pockets. "Beginning to ponder the consequences of your actions?"

 

"Perhaps," he returned her grin. "Didn't I hear something about tea?"

 

Her face lit up. "I told you you'd like it if you had it the right way!"

 

"Seems it's about time I listened to someone else every once in a while." Jefferson followed Hope to her tea tray, didn't stop fast enough when she turned around. They bumped together and then stumbled apart awkwardly.

 

"Sorry."

 

"Oops, pardon me."

 

"Here, let me help." Jefferson leaned over to help clean up the spill, but she waved him off.

 

"No, no, it's fine. No harm done, see?" Hope stood back up with two steaming cups. "Cheers."

 

Jefferson tapped her cup in response and then hid behind the teacup quickly.

 

"What changed your mind?"

 

He took the moment while he drank to choose his words. "Your little speech about consequences. Made me a little nervous about things I've done. Certain people… powerful people may have a bee in their bonnet because of me. No reason to stoke that flame."

 

"And the whisker?"

 

"I'm going to ask before I give." Though he didn't tell her that he might give it anyway, if he could negotiate her return from stone into the deal.

 

Hope beamed. "I'm glad Wonderland's offered you a little clarity on the matter, Jefferson."

 

"More a matter of perspective, a new perspective really." He was a little exhausted, his mouth was talking without his mind giving it the go ahead. A bit of panic raced through him as he heard the words from his mouth. His tea was gone, there was nothing more to hide behind. Hope seemed to pick up on the fact and side-stepped it smoothly.

 

"All finished? Shall we go?" Her eyes were bright, face flushed. Hope was just brimming with excitement, with… well, hope. "It's not too far, but I want to miss the noon patrol."

 

All of Hope's energy was so vibrant it was nearly tangible as they walked.

 

"What's different in your world, Jefferson? What's better?"

 

"Well, things aren't so nauseatingly bright, for one."

 

Hope tittered nervously in response. She skipped a little every few steps. Her hair was loose this day, curling softly and long. It fluttered around her face and shoulders mimicking her excitement in slower, gentler movements.

 

"And the food is just food, except for when its poisonous. And the animals don't talk, for the most part."

 

"Sounds delightfully dull!" Hope spun around and grabbed Jefferson's hands. "But you're not dull, so it's not an absolute condition. There's some whimsy somewhere, some magic. Tell me, Jefferson, how would one repay another for saving their life in your world?"

 

It almost felt like her manic joy was communicable by touch. Jefferson found himself grinning back at her. "Depends on the people. For some, money works, others… a simple thank you, some a debt to be repaid, or maybe a hug, a kiss, a handshake."

 

Hope giggled and swung his hands. "I'm going to do all of that! I'm going to be free! No more skulking, no more lurking, no more hiding in the back-country. I can horse ride again! I can… I can't think of anything else right now, but whatever I do think of I can do!"

 

Jefferson chuckled as she skipped backwards, spinning between his hands. "You're a little more… unbridled today."

 

"Well, now I know it's happening. I'm always prepared for disappointment, you see."

 

"Or you're a little unhinged."

 

"Perhaps, but you're the one who talks to himself. So, we're both a teensy bit mad in our own ways. It works."

 

Jefferson had a feeling that even when they stepped through that looking glass Hope would still shine a little brighter than everyone else, with a little more color. If he was bringing anything back from this world for keeps, he was glad it was that.

 

"Uh… this looks familiar." He noticed the super-sized garden plants and the shimmering path. "I think it's close."

 

"I told you," Hope replied in sing-song voice. "Not too far."

 

"We could have made it here by nightfall yesterday, Hope."

 

She pouted at the sternness in his voice and then smiled. "Yes, but when then would you have had your moment of realization, that instant when reflection yielded to self-discovery? It was for the best."

 

"You're manipulative."

 

"Seem familiar? Disarming charm is not your domain alone, Jefferson dear." Hope tugged on his hand and broke into a jog, yanking him along behind her. "There! Do you see it? The Looking Glass."

 

"Yes! That's it!" Jefferson fell into a full run, only staggering to a stop directly in front of the mirror. "And…and you?" A feeling of anxiety washed over him. She was about to turn herself into stone. What if he couldn't turn her back?

 

"Just make sure you catch me!" She chimed before tossing her pouchful of poppy seeds into her mouth.

 

Jefferson jumped, holding out his hands, but he needn't have panicked. Turning to stone was a slow process. As she stiffened and the light faded from her eyes, her cheeks, Jefferson was able to reach out and gather her in his arms. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his mouth felt dry, the shock of seeing the transformation must have had confounded him. After her features solidified into smooth slopes and carved lines, she lost all color, took on a pebbled grey tone. Then she began to shrink. He knelt and laid her on the ground carefully for this, in case she shrank too quickly and he let her drop and shatter.

 

He felt resoundingly lonely when it was all finished, when Hope was but a little statuette he could hold in the palm of his hand. Even when she wasn't speaking she'd had a calming sound about her. Now it was silent.

 

Jefferson sighed heavily and gently slid Hope into his satchel with the whisker. Tucked against his chest they'd both be safe. One last time through the Looking Glass. He glanced over his shoulder at the blaring colors, the absurd plants and then shook his head. He was glad to be leaving all that behind. With luck, he wouldn't be coming back soon, if ever.

 

Back in the hat's portal room he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Already his head felt clearer. He headed straight for the intricately carved oaken door that he knew would take him home. Stepping out onto the muted tones of dead leaf and moss he drew his second deep breath of relief. He'd fully made it back. It was home, it smelled like pine and rain and old, moist soil. There was his hat, his _hat_ hat sitting calmly at his feet, waiting to be retrieved, and its box a few feet away. He packed it up and headed south, to the imp's castle.

 

Rumpelstiltskin was not in the habit of answering the door, so Jefferson spun his hat and stepped inside right into the spinning room where the imp normally wiled away his time.

 

"Took you long enough! I'd begun to think you'd emigrated."

 

Jefferson had not missed the Dark One's cackle. "Ran into some difficulties. Wonderland is not a pleasant place."

 

"No? A shame. But you got it?"

 

"I did." Jefferson slipped the whisker from its pouch and held it out by its end. _"But…"_ he pulled it back and away from Rumpelstiltskin's grasp. "There are some conditions."

 

The imp fluttered his fingers in glee. "Found a conscience, hatter?"

 

"Not… quite. What's the whisker for?"

 

"Oh, a little thing here, a little there. Nothing too big." He snickered like that was exactly not the truth.

 

"Look, I'm not giving it to you until I know what it's going to do. It's not going to bring Regina's wrath down on my head, is it?"

 

"Oh ho ho! Quite the opposite! Now… was it a girl or a cricket?"

 

Jefferson pursed his lips and held the whisker back out. "Fine, but it's going to cost you more, for overtime and extra labor. That cat was crazy, as was everything else."

 

"Ooo, what's in the bag. Bring back a souvenir?"

 

Jefferson's satchel was suddenly in the Dark One's clutches.

 

"Oh ho! It was a girl and you smuggled her over!"

 

"It was part of a deal, so was turning her back from stone. Can you do that?"

 

"Probably. But do I want to? I have a feeling she's going to put a knot in our arrangement. She feels moral." The imp weighed Hope in his hand and then tossed her to his other.

 

"Don't!" Jefferson only barely stopped himself from leaping over to catch her up. "Just… stop. I owe her this, it was a deal, passage out for help finding the mad cat."

 

"Annnnd, did she help you?"

 

"I wouldn't have the whisker without her, or maybe even my head. So, yes. Can you turn her back or not?"

 

Jefferson held out the whisker to tempt as Rumpelstiltskin thought it over. The imp shook his head from side to side a few times and then sighed, snatching up the whisker.

 

"Deal." He waved his hand over Hope and stepped out of the way of the puff of purple smoke. "Don't make me regret it, hatter."

 

"Of course not." Jefferson bowed and then stooped over to scoop up the half-conscious Hope from the ground.

 

"And when I require a new acquisition?"

 

"You know where to find me," Jefferson answered, kicking closed his hat box and grabbing it on his way out.

 

Hope was smiling dopily up at him as he stepped outside.

 

* * *

Hope had been having the most curious dream. She would have to tell it to the Mock Turtle when she next saw him. He was very good with reading dreams. There'd been a picnic, a day of tea in the garden. She'd braided daisies into a crown. Her mother was laughing from far away, so she'd followed it, running through the woods, skipping over root and branch.  A cloud passed and she'd felt cold, but she'd been caught in something warm and velvety. Then she'd floated downstream in a giant hat.

 

No. No… Not quite. Hope felt a surge of joy. She'd not just been dreaming, it wasn't all a dream. Jefferson. Jefferson and his marvelous hat. She struggled through her leaden grogginess to open her eyes. She wasn't stone anymore. She could feel that. She could feel her feet swinging, her head lolling against something rich and spicy. Something warm and solid hitched up her knees, braced her shoulders. She was alive, and someone was carrying her.

 

Jefferson. That backwards, crabby skeptic with his never-ending questions and questionable morals. And yet she'd helped him, enjoyed his oddness. That and his crooked smirk with the dimple in his chin. He was mischievous, and his blue eyes crinkled when he was being bedeviling, but Hope couldn't fault him for that. She'd learned to work wiles herself. Used them to ensnare men, to cajole them into helping her, to befuddle them. Maybe did a little of that with Jefferson. But unlike the others, the pawns and the spades, she actually felt rather fond of Jefferson. They could have conversations, his strangeness made her laugh, he was different. She wanted him around, also a new thing.

 

Hope had been alone for a very long time. And she preferred it that way. Her solitary life in the woods had worked, kept her safe, let her heal. Living at the Royal Court throughout her childhood had damaged her. She'd seen things, heard things, done things in that company that she would never forget, and would always regret. It was a noxious place. Made her love being by herself, where she could make her own choices, act without fear of punishment. She could be happy with the other woodlanders who occasionally visited, her schoolchildren, the hare and the birds. Friends were fine, royal allies were another. So were suitors. That was another thing she'd avoided by leaving Court: the constant fawning, the wooing and the false words. Hope had learned the game, knew to flirt and play coy, be the coquette when it was useful for her. But not doing that was preferable, until she found herself employing the old ways without thinking.

 

She'd never felt the bread and butterflies of love, not like other girls her age had chattered of, had only played witness to giggling twitterpation. And that had been fine. Her parents hadn't found love until they were both older. Her uncle had never found anyone. They were all content. So had she been. But now, with her face buried in his coat she felt the bread and butterflies.

 

She pried her eyes open and searched for his, prayed that it was Jefferson. Sure enough, those bright blues were turned down at her, a little wider than normal, but amid that same comically nonplussed expression of his.

 

"You got it to work," she croaked, a little gravelly.

 

He sighed, his face falling into its typical, quizzical indifference. "Yes. My employer turned you back."

 

"And…" Hope yawned lazily as she stretched her freshly de-stoned limbs, "the whisker?"

 

"Well, magic comes with a price."

 

"You gave it to him," Hope replied heavily.

 

Jefferson frowned down at her. "In return for your life, yes. Are you ready to walk?"

 

Hope reached up and looped her arm over his shoulder, struggling to look around at this new world. "And the price that bought my life wrought what?"

 

"Nothing bad. So I was told," Jefferson replied shortly, clearly finished with the subject. "Here, find your feet."

 

Hope tottered unsteadily on her still somewhat numb legs, supporting herself on Jefferson's shoulder. He hadn't been kidding, this world was much more muted. Her eyes were having a hard time adjusting and actually seeing what colors there were. But what she did see she liked. Soft greens and lush browns, deep blues and dark reds and some surprising golds and oranges. Jefferson fit here, with his startling eyes and rich brown hair. Hope liked it. All the quiet colors made the really bright ones truly stand out. The air smelled different too, cooler, moister, like the deepest pockets of the undisturbed backwoods in Wonderland.

 

"Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, Hope."

 

"It is aptly named. This wood is truly… enchanting," Hope breathed. She stood up straighter, still clinging to his shoulder. "It… it's not nearly as dull as you made it seem!"   
 

Hope caught Jefferson watching her. The softness in his eyes was new, and extremely fleeting, his guard went back up immediately into an impassive look of disinterest. She beamed at him anyway.

 

"Smell it! So clean and crisp and full of life! Where is it? Where's all the life? Hidden? Secret?" She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I love it. So, this is why you smelled of wood and leaves and spice."

 

Jefferson slightly loosened his grasp around her waist and Hope trailed her hand down to his elbow, taking a tentative step on her own. She licked her lips. Even the air tasted different. She took another step, still balancing with Jefferson's hand. The ground was soft and spongy under foot, but still crackled as she tread upon twigs. There were birds singing somewhere, but just whistling, there were no words. It was still pleasant.

 

With a giggle she twirled around, luxuriating in the cool breeze around her face and ankles. "It's wonderful!"

 

Jefferson chuckled quietly behind her. "I'm glad you like it. It's your home now."

 

Hope spun back towards him, skipped up to where he stood, stopped toe to toe with him. She wiggled slightly, still vibrating with excitement but wanting to make this sincere. Squaring her shoulders, Hope placed her palms on Jefferson's chest, to his exaggerated surprise, and smiled.

 

"Thank you, Jefferson. I owe you my life. I don't have money, but I can promise you something. I will return this happiness to you twofold, I know I will find a way. In the meantime…" she tossed her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to his chest, holding there tightly in a hug.

 

This close he smelled even more like this forest. At first, Jefferson just froze, motionless, but eventually he softened some and wrapped an arm around her waist, set a hand below her neck. She had a feeling he was weaving his fingers into her hair.

 

"So, what was it you said? A hug… a kiss… a handshake?" Hope tilted away on her tiptoes and looked up into Jefferson's face. He just looked terrified.

 

The bread and butterflies made her look at his mouth, at that sweet little pout he often fixed in a frown. She bet he tasted like this place, felt warm and silky like the sunlight and the air. But he also looked like one touch would make him crumple and float away like the other mild things of this world. So instead she leaned up and gently pressed her lips to his cheek.

 

Jefferson still flinched a bit, but he looked less frightened when she stood away, kept his arms around her for a lingering moment, before looking down at his feet and taking a step back. He looked up when Hope held out her hand.

 

"You're welcome, of course," he took her hand, his beguilingly crooked grin at half-strength as he responded. "Now we're even."

 

Hope felt the giggles bubbling up and she couldn't stop them. They spilled out of her and she pounced away and started twirling again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jefferson! Now I'm free!"

 

She caught a glimpse of him with each full turn, arms crossed, single brow raised as he smothered a smile. He looked amused with her. "I want to eat your food here! Taste your tea! I'm going to see the plants and animals and feel the sunlight and breeze. Oh! And I want meet your people, too! Maybe there are little young ones who need a schoolmistress! I'll see it all!"

 

"Okay, okay. You can do all those things… eventually." There was a smile in his voice, but Jefferson was still serious when he caught her by the shoulders, held her still in front of him. "For now, you need to get situated, figure out where you'll stay. Since I owe you that kindness, you may stay with me for today, but we need to find you a home, employment. Though first food, normal food."


	4. Ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are decidedly not ordinary.

Jefferson was torn.

 

Now that he was home and everything was ordinary, he wanted to get back to normal: to eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of his work. That just didn't seem as appealing as it once had, however. Normal food, yes. Wiling away his time in the amusements of the forest not as much.

 

What he was going to do with Hope was much more intriguing. He also was hesitant to leave her here on her own, to her own devices. No doubt she was capable of surviving, she was a clever girl and tenacious. It was more that he wasn't going to… be around for it.

 

He'd always said he kept running for the thrill, that he traveled for excitement, for money, and secretly to fill the void of purposelessness, so he could never be still. But Hope offered similar enticement in one spot. She was unpredictable, and kept him on his toes, but she was stimulating, making him look at things differently. That was just as fascinating and thrilling as the tug the portal provided.

 

He wanted both.

 

"What are you pondering over so solemnly?" Hope's melodious sing-song drew him from his contemplations. She was practically floating along beside him, often dipping to collect flowers or leaves or mushrooms.

 

"Just what I'm going to do with you. I can't just let you loose on this unsuspecting world. You'll overturn it with your insane glee and literalness."

 

Hope bubbled over with laughter again like a music box. She tucked yet another plant in her waist pouch and then, grabbing his hand, spun around. He had been right, before in Wonderland, Hope was brighter than this world. Her hair shone in the soft light, her skin glowed with more life than this land could foster. Even her eyes sparkled brighter.

 

"I'm harmless… for the most part! And what's this?"

 

Jefferson glanced at the thirtieth leaf she had asked him about. He didn't know. "Another leaf."

 

"Oh, I know that, silly. What _sort_ of leaf?"

 

"I don't know, we'll have to find you a herb crone to teach you the plants."

 

Hope turned sly like he'd flicked a switch. "Oh, will _we?"_

 

"Mm-hmm," Jefferson rolled his eyes and then swept her along by the small of her back. "Yes, I think so. It would be irresponsible of me to expose my home to you ignorant of its ways."

 

"So you'll be schooling me?"

 

"It appears so, here. Welcome to my… humble abode."

 

Hope gasped as they turned around the edge of the Darkling Copse. Jefferson's home was extravagant, it housing only himself, but his trade afforded such luxury and spending on it had been exciting. Cobblestoned and shining, it was a perfect lord's mansion amidst a pristine garden. It was all the more excessive since he hardly ever used two thirds of it. But all of a sudden, it acquired purpose. Hope was enamored with it, especially the garden.

 

"Oh, it's magnificent, Jefferson! The flowers and the berries and the… insects! What are those? Are those your bread and butterflies?"

 

Jefferson snorted, "just butterflies, Hope, and no, they're not made of butter."

 

"They're beautiful!" She beamed as she fluttered around the garden, smelling flowers and gazing at the bugs.

 

"Yes, and they'll be there still after we've eaten. Come on, let's go inside." He partially regretted ending her joyful frolic, but he was hungry, and tired. "Do you like potato and beef stew?"

 

The inn around the bend provided the food. He left Hope 'cleaning up' as he stalked over to the innkeeper's. With a pot of stew, some bread and cheese he marched back to his home, ignoring the jibes of his usual companions for dinner and more when he returned home from trips. Their noise, their crassness was tiring. They would've told him what he wanted to hear, did what he wanted, what he expected. But back in his house, with Hope, he didn't know what to expect. Maybe she'd tell him what he needed to hear, like before.

 

Time for something new.

 

Hope was singing, something nonsensical about mome raths and jabberwocks, when Jefferson stepped back inside. He stopped dead when he realized what she was doing. Stripped down to her shift and petticoats, she was flouncing around  with a feather duster and oil cloth. She was cleaning up. Literally. He'd figured she'd wash up, maybe make a change of clothes from all the fabric he left lying around, clean up. Not clean his _house._

 

"What are you doing?"

 

Hope hopped off of a stool and spun to answer him. "Why, I'm cleaning up, of course. What does it look like I'm doing, silly?"

 

"I…I thought you'd wash, or get changed… not clean my house." He scoffed and then walked to his dining table. "Here, stew and bread and cheese. I even got some tea leaves for you."

 

Jefferson set everything down and reached into his coat for the tea leaf packet. Hope snatched it up eagerly and trounced over to his hearth. "Have you a proper kettle, Jefferson?"

 

"Somewhere in the cupboard. One… uh, someone bought one at some point." There was no point in telling Hope about all the girls who'd tried to make this house a home over the years. They never stayed longer than it took to buy a few knickknacks here and there. That's why his house looked like someone lived in it at all.

 

"Yes! This one'll do. Oh, and you have a tea service, too. A very nice one." Hope emerged from his cabinets and started washing out the cups and pots. She wasn't embarrassed at all by the fact that she was in her underclothes.

 

Jefferson chose not to be either, and instead set about serving the meal.

 

"Jefferson, why don't you come here? I think you should learn to make tea… for when I'm busy. I can't have any of this poorly brewed, over-steeped nonsense."

 

He put aside the stew pot and replaced its lid. He might as well learn, he did like her tea.

 

"Mmm, these are good leaves," she mumbled into the pouch. "They smell amazing. Here!" Hope thrust it into his face and Jefferson took an obliging whiff. Admittedly, they did have a pleasant aroma.

 

"Okay, you don't want to scald the leaves or pour into a cold pot, those are two big no-no's. So, I'm going to warm the pot over the fire and…"

 

Jefferson followed her directions, laid it to heart how she handled the water, poured the milk and scooped the sugar. He listened to her explain, to lecture, to the excitement in her voice as she talked about something she liked. He wasn't that passionate about anything like that, the way this girl was about making tea. Such a simple thing.

 

"Jefferson? Are you paying _any_ attention?"

 

He looked away from the loose strand of hair on her bare shoulder that he'd been contemplating brushing away. "Yes, don't let the tea over-steep or it will be bitter."

 

"Good. So you were just staring out of _concentration."_

 

Jefferson cleared his throat and stepped around to the other side of the table. "And you like how much sugar?"

 

"Mm-hmm. I like mine sweet, so two or three spoonfuls. And there." Hope finished stirring the cup in her hand and held it out to Jefferson. "A proper cup of tea."

 

Somehow it tasted even better here at home. Hope seemed to agree, humming happily into the steam.

 

"Oh, it's delightful! The leaves here are excellent, just… like… everything… else!" She sang and spun around the table to where Jefferson was. "I love it here."

 

"You ready to try the food?"

 

Hope nodded eagerly.

 

"You want to put some clothes on first?"

 

She glanced down at her underclothes and then shrugged. "Mine were filthy, so I washed and hung them up. This is fine, is it not? I'm not uncovered. Just because you have a fascination with many layers of clothing doesn't mean I do."

 

Jefferson frowned, looking down at his own garb. "I'm overdressed for your taste?"

 

Hope tittered and then sat down. "Depends. Now, what's this stew? Is it any good?"

 

Jefferson eyed her for a moment, completely baffled by what she meant, then slipped off his coat and hung it up.

 

"Not that they're not lovely, it just seems to me that you'd be a touch overwarm in all that. Tie and shirt and waistcoat, all in wool and velvet, and leather breeches. That's quite a lot. Mmmm, this is tasty! Oh, the food's so rich and deep in flavor. Everything in Wonderland tastes sickly sweet in comparison. Oh, and the cheese!"

 

Hope delved into her plate with all fervor and left Jefferson to wonder over her reaction to his wardrobe.

 

"Oh, stop acting so offended and eat. It was just an observation. You look very handsome, don't worry." Hope looked up at him again and smiled. "I mean it, though, here."

 

Jefferson jolted away as she reached for his face.

 

"No. Hold still. I'm just… helping." She swept her fingers over his brow and pushed his hair off his face. "Off your forehead suits you. I can see your eyes better."

 

He watched her watching him and then shrugged. No harm in hearing out a woman's opinion. He ran his fingers through his hair and smoothed it out of his face. "Better?"

 

"I like it better, yes." Hope nodded contentedly and resumed tucking into her stew.

 

That made Jefferson chuckle. He loosened the knot at his throat and unwound his tie from his neck, setting it aside before picking up his spoon. They ate quietly, only a few comments here and there from Hope. Jefferson mostly studied her. He liked the way his handkerchief looked around her neck, the shine of the silk against her skin. About half way through her stew, Hope loosed a trill of giggles and lunged across the table. She snatched up his scarf and draped it around her shoulders.

 

"Such lovely clothing, Jefferson."

 

"I am a hatter, I do like a good fabric." The scarf looked just a lovely as his handkerchief. Maybe he'd just give her all his clothing.

 

"I expect then that you and I can make some excellent clothing to replace all that I left behind in Wonderland."

 

Jefferson nodded. He could work with needle and thread, though he'd never tried his hand at women's clothing. Couldn't be that difficult. "We can make your clothing, Hope. You'll need it when we travel."

 

"Travel?" Somehow, Hope's eyes were even brighter. She hopped to her feet and skipped over to kneel in front of him "We're going traveling?"

 

He wasn't sure what did it, what pushed him to it, but Jefferson had made his decision. "I think I need a conscience around for now on when I make my… acquisitions. You opened my eyes to that. I figured… you could keep doing that. It'll earn your keep, pay for your food and clothing, and… this house is cavernous. You… can stay with me here."

 

"Oh, so generous, Jefferson, but what if I wish to live here on my own?"

 

Jefferson sat back, surprised. Hope looked down at him, now back on her feet, with the most innocent expression on her face.

 

"You… you… you're more than welcome, of course. I was only offering my assistance."

 

"And…?"

 

He frowned. "And what?"

 

"You were only offering your assistance and you… wanted what for yourself?"

 

Jefferson crossed his arms. "I can't be kind without ulterior motives?"

 

"No," Hope replied shortly. "No, Jefferson, I know your type. You're wily, tenacious, self-serving, witty and charismatic, but not just altruistic."

 

She folded her hands and lifted her chin. "So, my silly Jefferson, what about this benefits you?"

 

"I meant what I said. I need a conscience. I don't think about the consequences. This is what benefits me. And… I… could use… company. I've been alone… for a _very_ long time."

 

"Me too." Hope plucked up her bread and began picking at it, maintaining eye contact with Jefferson all the while. "I liked being alone--"

 

"I--I--I did, too," Jefferson stuttered out and then waved for Hope to continue.

 

"You reminded me that the alternative is likeable as well."

 

He nodded along with her, too uncomfortable to voice his agreement. He still wasn't sure how he felt about all _this,_  whatever it was. They sat in silence for a stretch, Jefferson staring with as much boldness as he could into Hope's eyes despite his utter lack thereof, Hope grinning back.

 

"Very well, Jefferson. I shall be your travel companion and act as your conscience. And I shall take you up on your offer to live here. I do love your garden." Hope finally looked away, grinning with sudden demure. "Thank you. For everything." She walked away from the table, stopping by his side to kiss him on the cheek again.

 

"I'm going to wash up now. Is there a particular room I should have?"

 

Jefferson opened his mouth but no sound came out at first. He shook his head and tried again. "No, whichever one you want."

 

"And yours?"

 

He turned around to smirk at her. "You'll know which one it is when you see it."

 

* * *

 

Keeping her composure had been a feat to tell. Ever since she'd woken in this land, Hope's chest had been a-bubble with butterfly wings. Jefferson was difficult to read, his mannerisms usually concealing something. He was also difficult for Hope to be around now without acting foolish. She'd tried to coax his actual attitude towards her out, but he was stubborn. And then he'd just invited her to live with him out of the blue. 

 

It seemed she'd still been right about him, and her butterflies. He wanted her around. Maybe for her conscience, maybe for her companionship. Maybe… for his butterflies. That was wishful thinking, though, a new brand for Hope, but she'd had so much go the right way with Jefferson, perhaps this could, too. Perhaps that hat had opened more than just the one door for her.

 

She took her time exploring Jefferson's home. She didn't really know what he was doing while she did this but he didn't disturb her. She'd shocked him, which was part of the plan, though not all of it. Hope had read the books, she knew how these sorts of encounters normally proceeded. A serendipitous meeting followed by some meaningful conversation, a meal, a shared adventure, all of which they'd had in the past two days, then a kiss. A real kiss, not some silly peck on the cheek.

 

Hope had watched the other girls fawn over men, gaggle over these sorts of kisses, in the garden, behind the bushes with whispers and smothered laughter. She'd thought it silly, but now with the butterflies, she kind of envied them their knowledge. Or rather, envied their boldness. She could talk all about it, act so coquettish, but when it came down to it, she'd only kissed his cheek twice. But he was scared, too. That much he couldn't hide. Fear meant there was something worth worrying about there, so it could be a good sign.

 

She caught her breath, thinking about what that sign could mean, and then pushed on, opening the umpteenth door in this house. This room she liked. It looked out onto the garden, had big beautiful windows and a wardrobe of rich cherry wood. Besides the wardrobe, it was empty. It would need a bed, but it was perfect. She stepped out, leaving the door open as if to bookmark it, and moved to the next room. She found herself singing again, this time about the dodo.

 

Her song fell silent on her lips when she opened the next door. Jefferson had not been joking. There was no doubt in her mind that this one was his. The huge four-poster bed, the chest of drawers and gorgeous patterned curtains. Then the hats. There were only three but they were the most beautiful hats she had ever seen. His house was full of things, random furniture, odds and ends like clocks and vases, but the rooms had all been practically empty of meaningful things except for his. He had mementos in there, strange baubles and trinkets, a glowing rock and an ornate pocket watch.

 

She wanted to explore this room, really explore it, but it seemed an invasion. So, instead, she only indulged in one thing. She picked up the nearest hat, a deep blue one of intricate, crushed velvet patterned into paisley swirls, its brim a gentle curve and lined with golden silk, a band of silver wrapped around its base. It had a lovely weight, felt almost alive in her hands. It smelled like Jefferson, like his woods and the herbs he kept in his fabrics to keep the insects at bay.

 

"D'you like it?"

 

Hope jumped at the sound of Jefferson's voice behind her. He'd caught her in the act of snooping, so she was a little jumpy. Nevertheless, she turned around slowly and smiled brightly.

 

"I do. It's absolutely stunning. I've never seen its like."

 

Jefferson offered a soft grin. "It's my favorite. I've made many hats. These four, and my magic hat, are the only ones I keep."  He sauntered past her and set the hat he'd worn during their meeting on the final stand.

 

"Where do you keep the _hat_ hat?" Hope asked pointing out a lack of stand for it.

 

"Oh, that one stays locked up. Too special, too valuable." He straightened the fourth, simplest hat on its stand carefully. "It's in its box, in a chest downstairs."

 

Hope didn't know what to say. He didn't need to tell her where it was locked up. That was an act of trust, especially if the hat was as special as he said and Hope believed it to be.

 

"Can you make me one?" Hope didn't know why she asked, hadn't even considered it before. It just rolled off her tongue. "Please?"

 

Jefferson gave her a crooked half-grin and then gently took the first hat from her. "If you'd like. I think silk would suit you." He arranged the hat on it stand and then turned to Hope considering.

 

He reached towards her and gently tilted her chin up with a single finger. "I think you'd be a 6 7/8. Maybe purple. For your eyes." There was a shine to his eye. Hope couldn't read it.

 

"I like purple very well."

 

"Mmm, deep purple silk, a velvet sash, yellow like your hair." He tilted her head back and forth and then nodded. "Yes, I think that will suit you. I can do that."

 

Hope swallowed hard, he hadn't looked at her like this before. He had an intensity about him when he wasn't feigning bored nonchalance. It made sense, with all his tenaciousness that there'd be a deeper characteristic, something like obsessiveness.

 

"Yes. I'll start it tonight."

 

With his finger gone, Hope's chin almost felt cold, like she could feel its absence more than she had its presence. Jefferson whipped around and began opening his chest of drawers, pulling out fabrics and then uncovered an oaken chest from beneath his bed.

 

"Yes, yes, yes. 6 7/8. 6 7/8… there you are." He stood with a hat block and a tool set and gathered up the fabrics he'd pulled out. "Now, the wire, need the wire and the shears."

 

He was talking to himself, all awhirl around Hope, like he'd forgotten she was there. Taking that as a cue, she edged out of his room. She'd known artists in her land, sometimes they became lost in their own creations. She hoped that was all this was. The problem was, she had no bed in the room she'd chosen, or in any of them. Just then, as she was milling around her room, Jefferson came flying out of his room. His eyes were a little wild but he seemed excited.

 

"Take my bed. I'll sleep at my workbench downstairs. It has better light." He ushered Hope back into his room, just one remove from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her. After making sure she was all set up on his bed, Jefferson rushed out with all his materials, taking the lamp with him. Hope was left confused in the dark.

 

By the moonlight she poured herself some water in a wash bin and bathed up. Snooping a bit, she found a nightshirt that was much too large and must have been Jefferson's. She hoped he wouldn't mind but she'd been in this chemise, corset and petticoat outfitting for what felt like far too long. Hope took the opportunity to wash up her things then as well. It was nice to be free of the constriction, but it made her nervous being so exposed. She finished quickly and hung the pieces out the window before climbing into his bed and hiding under all the thick, lush covers.

 

Hope fell asleep almost instantly and slept soundly. Jefferson's was a magnificent bed. She awoke with the sun rising, a strange sight for her, and sighed. Then she sat up quickly. There, on the nightstand beside her head was a deliciously ornate shimmering masterpiece of purple silk and golden velvet. Her hat. It was perfect. She swung her feet out of the bed and delicately caught it up. She giggled quietly and set it on top of her head. It fit perfectly. She wished she had a looking glass.

 

Turning to look for one she froze. Face down on the other side of the bed lay Jefferson, fully clothed and on top on the blankets. She hadn't heard or felt him lie down, though it looked like she should have, like he'd collapsed.

 

Hope set the hat back down and tiptoed over to the other side of the bed. He appeared to be breathing. Maybe. She laid a hand on his back and he stirred, turning on his side away from her. Hope took that as comfort enough and padded out of the room with her dry garments.

 

She was able fix up a bit of a breakfast with the supplies in Jefferson's stores, and more importantly she made tea. With the oat cakes warming on the hearth she stepped outside to take her first cup of tea in the garden. Wearing Jefferson's scarf from the day before as a shawl she listened to this new world wake up. It wasn't any quieter than Wonderland, but it was more musical, full of chirps and whistles and sweet tweeting melodies.

 

"I'm sorry if I startled you last night." Jefferson had a way of just appearing beside her.

 

"You didn't. You're stealthy."

 

He grinned. "I'm used to trying not to be noticed. Here, your tea's gone cold." He handed her a fresh cup and sat down beside her on the steps.

 

"Thank you."

 

"Mmm. You really like it out here, don't you?"

 

"It's so lovely. How could I not?"

 

Jefferson nodded beside her, she saw him from the corner of her eye. "Did you see your hat?" His voice was soft, like he was self-conscious.

 

"I did! It is stupendous." She gave him a smile and then popped up to her feet. "Come on, I made breakfast."


	5. A Spot of Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson receives the first commission with his new traveling companion. An interlude for tension.

Jefferson hadn't slept as well as he did that night in years. But that was always how it was after he had a hatter flurry. His work quieted his mind, his real work. The portal jumping just roweled him up. By the time he'd finished Hope's hat, he'd been asleep on his feet, had just barely set it on his bed stand before passing out beside her. He hadn't intended to, he'd really meant it when he'd told Hope he would sleep at his workstation. He just hadn't made it back down there.

 

She hadn't seemed bothered by it. She'd even made breakfast and she was a great cook, even with the scant supplies he kept in his home.

 

"I can take you to market tomorrow," he mentioned after his second oatcake. "I can only cook a few things, but if you can I might as well get some real food for the house. If you're willing," he added quickly.

 

"That would be nice. I'd like to make some tea sandwiches again sometime." She pushed another cake onto Jefferson's plate. "Oh, and bacon!"

 

"Who doesn't like bacon?"

 

The trilling giggle that followed had Hope up on her feet, shock on her face. Jefferson just rolled his eyes.

 

"What? No 'Good morning! Thank you for saving me!'?"

 

"What is that?" Hope whimpered weakly.

 

"What? What, what, what, what, what. Always 'what.' I'm a 'who', dearie. Rumpelstiltskin's the name, magic's the game. And who are you?"

 

Hope was shifting her eye warily from Jefferson to the spot behind him he assumed Rumpelstiltskin had appeared in. Jefferson stood heavily, crossing his arms.

 

"What do you want?"

 

"Oh! How uncourteous of you, hatter, after all I did for you." The imp was gleeful beyond normal. "I'm here… to engage in a spot of business. Like you said, I knew where to find you."

 

"Jefferson, who is this?" Hope had edged up behind him, laid a hand on his back feather-light. She was shaking. He'd forgotten that normal people were scared of the Dark One.

 

"My employer, Hope, Rumpelstiltskin."

 

"Your… your… employer is a dark sprite?"

 

"An imp, dearie, and _the_ Dark _One."_   He gave a florid bow and then cackled. "You didn't tell her, Jefferson, that dark magic saved her?"

 

Jefferson sighed heavily. He was going to tell her eventually, and Rumpelstiltskin wasn't the only one who appreciated his skills. "We hadn't gotten there yet. What do you want?"

 

"Oh, just a small request. A little… trinket, an hourglass from Agrabah."

 

Jefferson could feel the pressure on his back from Hope's hand increasing. "Agrabah's in our land. Where's the hourglass now?"

 

The imp fluttered his hands with a mischievous grin. "It somehow made its way to Olympia. Can you help?"

 

Jefferson ground his jaw together. Hope was stunned and maybe upset behind him. Rumpelstiltskin was waiting with a practiced eye on the situation in front of him. Whatever he chose to say next would change his standing with one of them.

 

"What's it for?"

 

Rumpelstiltskin appeared insulted. "What do you mean? Magic, of course."

 

"No. What are you going to do with the hour glass, _Dark One_?" Jefferson asked in exasperation.

 

"What does it matter, I'm willing to pay. Handsomely." He magicked a pile of gold on the table and grinned.

 

"I don't… want any trouble."

 

The imp waved off the comment like a fly. "It isn't for me. It's part of bargain. A princess buying herself more time."

 

Jefferson felt himself relax, felt Hope's hand lighten.

 

"A princess?" She asked in a small voice. "Since when do princesses consort with _demons?"_

 

Jefferson raised a brow, fought off a laugh as the imp reacted to that. He was always one for theatrics, opening wide his eyes and shaking his head.

 

"A demon?! Ho-ho! Not as meek as she seems! I am no demon, dearie, and the princess was in dire straits. I'm magical, I make deals, I'm like… a fairy godmother."

 

"An ugly one."

 

Jefferson snorted, raised a hand at Rumpelstiltskin's astonishment.

 

"Spunky. I like her," he purred. "Now, do we have a deal, hatter?"

 

Jefferson turned his head to look down at Hope. She blinked at him, curiosity written across her brow. "Feel like seeing a new land, Hope?"

 

"Hope. Such a… fitting name for all you'll bring for our dear hatter."

 

He ignored the imp and looked hard at Hope. She took a step back and appraised him.

 

"You're asking me?"

 

"I said I wanted you to act as my conscience."

 

"Ah, the hatter found his heart. How touching. Will you do it or not? I have other… consultants, you know." Rumpelstiltskin was growing impatient, was beginning to snap.

 

Hope considered the two of them carefully. "The princess, what did she do?"

 

"She made a bad choice, lost something she needed. I'm giving her the opportunity to regain it, through the Agrabah hourglass."

 

"And that's all? Nothing to implicate Jefferson in anything… evil?"

 

"Nope. None at all." The Dark One was watching Jefferson carefully now as well, fascination glowing behind his eerie eyes. His puckish jaunt returned. "So, dearie, can he go or not?"

 

" _I_ think it's fine, Jefferson, seems harmless, but…" And Hope turned her eyes now to Rumpelstiltskin, bold and defiant. "It's really _your_ choice, after all."

 

Jefferson nodded. "You have a deal, demon," he said with relish, but the imp just cackled.

 

"Fair enough! It looks like this, I'll see you soon!" He magicked a scroll sketch into Jefferson's hand and then disappeared.

 

The two of them stood in silence as the purple curls of smoke wafted away. It was Hope who broke it.

 

"That was… different… He was… interesting. That's your employer?"

 

"Not my only one, but, yes. He was the one who sent me to Wonderland, who turned you back from stone. Like he said."

 

"But he's evil."

 

Jefferson shrugged, "he's morally reprehensible, and he's selfish, but he's not necessarily _evil,_ not like our Queen who inflicts… trouble out of spite. He's just… kind of roguish."

 

"Hmm." Hope seemed unconvinced, but she smiled. "If you say so. Now, where is it that we're going? And how should I be dressed?"

 

"Olympia. Different world… older world, full of… heroes and gods. Strange rules. Strange clothes." Jefferson drew a deep breath and clicked his tongue. "Dangerous world."

 

"That's a weighted look," Hope commented, helping him collect dishes. "Let me guess, you are about to ask me if I'm sure I want to come."

 

"Oh… well, alright. So? Are you sure you want to come still? It's going to be dangerous." He couldn't help but grin as he asked. In truth, he liked Olympia, figured Hope would like Olympia.

 

She grinned back. "Yes. I'm quite sure. Can I wear my hat?"

 

"I'd say so. They know me as the man with the strange hat. My companion would have one as well. Come on, let's get you some proper clothing."

 

* * *

Jefferson's hats weren't the only things he could make well. With some guidance on cut and seaming, he easily made a new dress to match Hope's hat while she worked on her new undergarments. She couldn't make a new corset, but she could fashion the rest from what he had in his house. The work took the most of the rest of that day, but Jefferson didn't seem concerned.

 

"We'll head out first thing tomorrow," he answered when she asked about it. "I'm in no hurry."

 

"And the princess running out of time?" Hope shook out the new petticoat she'd just finished the hem on. "What about her?

 

"Rumpelstiltskin didn't say anything about being pressed for time. I'm sure it will be fine. You can't go anywhere in your undergarments and… I'm… not making decisions without you now. So…" He pulled a needle from behind his ear and threaded it with gold string, working on the bodice. "Like this?"

 

"Yes, exactly. And… um, I don't have a bed… in my room."

 

"I'll see to that when we return. Tonight you can stay in mine again and I'll really sleep out here." Jefferson pointed to his chair in the sitting room.

 

"Or… you…"

 

Jefferson turned to her, blue eyes wide.

 

"…could have your bed and I'll sleep out here, instead."

 

His face softened and he shook his head. "Nonsense. I'll be fine out here. I sleep out here half the time anyway."

 

Hope breathed shakily through her nose. That was not what she had intended to say, but what she had intended to say would have been heavy with implications, so it was good she backed out from saying it. But, still.

 

"Tea?" She asked, voice wavering with her breath.

 

"Please." Jefferson hardly looked up, he was precision-focused again.

 

Hope bustled to the hearth, set the kettle over the fire and distracted herself with cleaning the cups and pot. As they'd worked, they'd let their hands brush, reaching for or exchanging scissors, needles, thread and thimbles. Jefferson had talked to himself, mumbled and muttered about stitching or measurements, and though she'd been busy with her own work, Hope had watched him. She'd made enough shorts and camisoles in her life that she could sew without thinking about it. She'd felt the urge to brush the hair from his face, to still his tapping knee. She had the same restless energy, it didn't bother her, but she just wanted to touch him.

 

"Ouch!" She'd lost herself in thought and grabbed the kettle without a towel.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Just a little clumsy. Yes."

 

Jefferson looked at her with careful eyes but turned back to the dress without comment. Hope finished serving the tea with more care, didn't allow herself to wonder off and daydream. Well, not completely. She did wonder absently about if he ever _didn't_ wear a waistcoat. The one he had on today was dark grey and floral patterned. Not that they looked bad on him. On the contrary, she quite liked him in it, it was just that she wondered what he looked like without one… without…

 

"Damn it," she whispered dumping her cup out the window. She'd just put about six teaspoons of sugar into it.

 

"Something on your mind?" Jefferson asked slyly. He hooked a corner of his mouth up at her.

 

"No. Yes. Nothing important. Just distracted."

 

"Worried about the trip?" He was acting off-hand about it now.

 

"No. Excited." She set down a cup in front of him. "I just feel bad about making you sleep in a chair."

 

Jefferson cocked his head to the side.

 

"It's just that… I mean, you're going to be taking care of portal magic tomorrow. It seems silly to make you go without your absolute best night's sleep before that. I don't know, maybe I'm a little nervous."

 

"No reason to worry. I've done much more on much less sleep. Here. Finished." Jefferson stood and held up the dress. "Good enough?"

 

"Fantastic…" Hope took it gently from him and held it up to her chest.

 

"It'll look the part, match your hat." Jefferson nodded and took a sip from his tea. "Mmm. Remind me to pack you some tea leaves for the trip. In case it's a long search."

 

She nodded and twirled a little with the dress. Finally, she just blurted it out. "You should just sleep in your bed as well tonight. I didn't notice you before. It won't matter."

 

Jefferson had been watching her model the dress, hardly blinked an eye when she said this. Instead, he sat back and crossed his arms. "Why?"

 

"Why? Why? Well, I feel guilty for one, coming here, getting in the way of your business, commandeering your bed and having you make me clothes. And… and… I didn't notice you before, like I said, so there's no reason to put you out of comfort."

 

"You've never slept in a bed with another person, have you?"

 

Hope swallowed loudly. "Not since I was a child having slumber parties. Why?"

 

"Falling asleep at separate times of sheer exhaustion is one thing, Hope. Going to sleep lying beside someone is another. I don't think you'll find it as simple as being merely a solution to an inconvenience."

 

"Wh--why?"

 

Again, his crooked grin made an appearance. Jefferson stood and stepped around the table until he was nearly toe to toe with her. "Think of this, this proximity like we are now, but lying down, in the dark, with just the sound of the other person breathing as you try to fall asleep."

 

He stared straight down at her and let Hope process that. She could feel him breathing, not necessarily because he was touching her but because she could feel the air moving and warming as he did. She could smell him and sense the warmth of him that close to her skin. She took a deep breath and found it loud in her ears.

 

"Do you think you could fall asleep with a near stranger lying beside you like this?" He asked softly.

 

"No."

 

"No. I thought not." He stepped away and swept up all his kit from the table. "I'll sleep happily out here."

 

Hope nodded dumbly, clutching that dress to her chest. She was sweating, a little breathless. Using it as an excuse to recover in private, she bustled to her empty room to hang up her new clothes. With the door closed, she opened the window and fanned herself.

 

"Hope?" Jefferson must've been right outside her door. His voice was muffled but close. "I'm going to the well for some bath water. Do you want me to bring some for you?"

 

"Yes," she squeaked. Yes, she would like a warm bath right then.

 

Jefferson had two baths, one in a random room and one off the kitchen. He poured a few steaming buckets into the one in the random room and left Hope to it. Said he'd let her have the one with a door for some privacy. Hope let that cool a little as she picked up some linens and her newly made chemise. She could sleep in that tonight. A bath was just the thing. She felt much more relaxed by the time the water was cold and climbed out refreshed and sleepy. Scooping out the bathwater pail by pail she tossed it out the window and then toweled off. In her chemise she collected the towel and pail and tiptoed down the stairs.

 

"Jefferson?" She called reaching the sitting room.

 

"Yes?"

 

She followed his voice. "What do you want me to do with the… towels?"

 

He was still sitting in his tub, feet up on the edge, eyes closed. "You can leave them there in your bucket." He turned to look at her. "Feel better? The slip looks nice."

 

Hope quickly crossed her arms but Jefferson just grinned and closed his eyes again. " _I'm_ the one in the bath, Hope."

 

He was. Not that she could see anything… except his shoulders and calves. Now she sort of knew what he looked like without his waistcoat. Hope coughed and then nodded. "Yes. Okay, then. Goodnight, Jefferson." She turned around smartly and hurried out of the kitchen.

 

"Goodnight, Hope!" He called back, laughter following.

 

"What an embarrassment!" She snapped at herself and ran up the stairs. She couldn't get underneath the blankets of his bed fast enough.

 

* * *

Jefferson sat in his bath for several minutes more after Hope left, even though his water had gone cold a while before that. He didn't want to make her squirm in discomfort any more in the case that she come back in while he was getting out of the tub. He was a little surprised at her. She was more naïve than he'd initially been led to believe. All that sportish talk had just been talk. She could outwit a queen and her court, but she'd never been with a man.

 

"Good priorities," he muttered to himself. "Smart priorities." That was the way to survive, that was why he'd stayed away from actual relationships with women. Just dallied here and there with inn girls, bar wenches. Getting attached was a good way to get hurt. He'd assumed she was like himself, but she was better, she was completely unattached to anyone, anything. She was free.

 

And she was adorable in her prudish modesty. Blushing at his shoulders. He snorted thinking about it. Although, it may not have just been that. He may have provoked that reaction after the stunt he pulled teaching her why he should sleep in the sitting room. That was a little too intimate a way to send that message, had left him looking for something to do, hence fetching bath water.

 

Climbing out of the bathtub, Jefferson wondered if he'd sent Hope the completely wrong message, if he'd scared her. He didn't mean to, or to push her away. He actually only wanted to be clear with her about things. Dumping the bathwater out the back door, he got dressed again and considered going up to apologize. Eventually, he decided against it, best not to startle her in his shorts. Grabbing a quilt from a cloth chest he snuffed out the lamp and splayed out over his chair.

 

Sleep was a fickle friend for Jefferson, and tonight it was flighty. He thought about Hope up in his bed, hoped she was wrestling with rest better than him. Then he thought about what she'd suggested. Could he fall asleep next to a woman, next to Hope, if he wasn't black-out exhausted? He didn't know. He hadn't tried in years.

 

She'd be tense, overly conscious of him, but her hair in the moonlight would be pretty, would probably smell like soap after she bathed. In just that slip he could watch her breathe, deeply for once. She didn't sleep with her neck tie, he'd have seen the smooth stretch of her neck without her reaching to cover it. He wondered if she slept on her side or her stomach or her back. She was in his bed. He had a woman in his bed and he was sleeping in a chair.

 

Jefferson drew a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. He needed to focus on something else, stop thinking about her. He was helping her, she was helping him. It was a business arrangement. They were friendly, that was all.

 

Had he rejected an offer to sleep with her? He sat upright in the chair and thought about exactly how Hope had phrased that suggestion. It had started out sounding like an offer but she'd finished up saying it wouldn't matter if he was there, she wouldn't notice. He laid back down. No, that hadn't been an offer, or if it was, it wasn't for what he'd thought. Unless Hope wasn't sure what she wanted, what she was offering, in which case he could explain. No. She was a woman, even if she had no personal experience, she knew the way things worked.

 

Didn't she?

 

Jefferson lay there arguing these things over with himself for what felt like hours. He'd go from extremes of how Hope was naïve and hadn't intended any implications in her innocent offer of a good night's rest to how she knew exactly what mentioning sleeping in the same bed with him would conjure up images of for him and had done so with the maiden act to entice him into wooing her. The bathtub incident enforced both theories. He was in a quandary. It was also after midnight when he decided he was driving himself mad over it and he just needed to set it aside for another time. It didn't matter because she was up there and he was down here.

 

He rearranged his limbs in the chair and resisted the urge to groan. His body was aching from a mixture of cramped joints and sharp angles of the chair and his frustration. He needed to talk to her about this, either call it platonic between them or go ahead and show her what a man could do. That idea stuck with him. She was a schoolmistress, bossy and smart as a whip, but he could show her some things. He wanted to show her those things.

 

"Ah, hell," he hissed as his imagination took over. He wasn't going to be able to look her in the eye the next day. It was going to be even worse, as he'd just come to the conclusion that she was so naïve, after living alone in the woods for years, that she didn't even think about those kinds of things. That she was just staying around him for the adventure his hat offered.


	6. With a Flick of the Wrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their trip via hat takes a set of predictably nasty turns. Hope proves herself.

Hope hadn't slept well, so she was both exasperated and relieved when the sun began its strangely upward journey through the window. She'd been staring at her new hat for some time now. No real reason why, she just couldn't sleep, so there was no reason to stare at the inside of her eyelids, might as well be something nice to look at. It shimmered in the early dawn's rays. She wondered if Jefferson was awake, if it was too early for her to climb down those stairs and disturb him.

 

She'd dreamt about him when she had slept, about him standing right before her, looking at her, breathing with her. It had been like the night before, when he'd embarrassed her with his nearness, only this time she'd not been uncomfortable. Butterflies woke her from that and afterwards, sleep had abandoned her. He was probably still sleeping downstairs; she could go peek to check. Not on his face, Hope imagined he looked very lovely when he slept. Surely all that disdain and bemusement would be gone, would leave just his brow unfurrowed, mouth unfrowned, eyes unskepticaled.

 

Hope decided she wanted to check. Dressing quickly, she donned her undergarments but left off her dress. She didn't want to spoil it as she made breakfast. Then she padded softly down the stairs. He was still asleep, an array of splayed out limbs over the armchair sticking out from under a large quilt. His head was propped up on the arm, hair mussed and wild, but he looked calm. She'd been right, his persona melted when he slept. In fact, he seemed a good deal younger, less a jaded man and more youth trying stubbornly to prove himself.

 

He couldn't be much older than Hope. Her guess was he'd just reached two decades. With that boyish pout, maybe less. She very much wanted to kiss him in that moment, to feel if his mouth was a soft as it looked, but she blushed and turned away instead. It was untoward watching a person one hardly knows as they sleep, even worse to kiss them. So she quickly tiptoed away to regain her composure in the garden.

 

It was picturesque that morning. Dew rested on the petals, making their colors shine. The earth smelt fresh and cool. Bees hovered around and sometimes stopped to investigate Hope. She tried speaking to them but they only buzzed back. Animals didn't talk in this world. She felt a pang of sadness at that but shrugged it off, her world didn't have these birdsongs. She trailed through the rose bushes, yellow and white she noted with a soft laugh, and followed a particularly jocular blue bird along the tree line. It wasn't so much singing as squawking and that made her laugh.

 

"You should have kissed him, dearie!"

 

Hope jumped a foot into the air and scared away her bird friend. "Rumpel…Rumpelst…"

 

"That's me." The beast bowed dramatically and then grinned at her. The way his skin glistened made Hope uncomfortable, the look in his eyes made her afraid. "You should have kissed him. The hatter could use a… feminine touch. He gets ever so… unpleasant when he's alone for long stretches."

 

Hope backed away from him and towards the house. "I'll bear that in mind, sir."

 

"Sir? Haha!" He broke into giggles. "Now I'm 'sir'! You're as mercurial as him. Perhaps a touch of destiny!" And with a little pop he was gone.

 

Hope shuddered with her whole body and ran back inside the house, slamming the garden door without thinking.

 

"Schl-what?!" Jefferson popped upright in the chair and looked around groggily. "Who's there?"

 

"It's only me, Jefferson. My apologies."

 

He looked towards her and blinked a few times before recognizing her. "Hope!" He sat up even straighter and pawed at his face. "You're up."

 

"I am. I didn't mean to wake you… I was in the garden and… never mind."

 

He stopped rubbing his eyes to study her. That wary look returned between his brow and he didn't look so young anymore. "What happened in the garden?"

 

"That imp caught me by surprise."

 

Jefferson stood up and cocked his head to the side. "My employer, the imp?"

 

"Yes."

 

His jaw set, his mouth hardened into a line. There, the look of perpetual distrust returned. He dropped the quilt and looked up at the ceiling. "You're not welcome in my house unless on business and you know it!"

 

Nothing responded but Jefferson seemed unfazed by that. He nodded smartly and ducked his head to look at Hope. "Are you alright?"

 

"Why, yes, I'm fine. He merely startled me, scared away the little bird I was following."

 

Jefferson's eyes softened, he breathed a sigh. "Alright. He's… incorrigible, but you'll get used to him. I'm sorry."

 

"Not at all, not at all," Hope waved it all away like it was silly bluster. "Breakfast?" She turned away to avoid staring at his lack of waistcoat. Now she knew what men's undergarments looked like.

 

"Actually, Hope, a cold breakfast will have to do. I meant to wake you at dawn so we could leave as soon as possible." He was grabbing dried meats and some cheese wrapped in cloth from a cabinet and setting them on the table. "We can eat as we walk." He left a bundle on the table and then strode to the stairs. "Don't worry I packed tea leaves," he grinned before slipping out of sight.

 

Hope counted exactly ten seconds before tottering up after him and darting into her room where she'd left her dress. With her corset already done up, it only took her a moment or so to finish getting dressed. Jefferson was still buttoning his waistcoat when he answered his door.

 

"I assume you'll be wanting this." He flipped her hat from the table and nudged it securely onto her head. "A perfect fit." He seemed to admire his work briefly and then grabbed his own hat, a lovely deep purple one with orange trim he hadn't worn before.

 

"We nearly match," Hope commented quietly and Jefferson raised his eyebrows.

 

"Yes, I suppose we do. A coincidence," he said, flashing his best Cheshire cat grin. Only on him it was enticing. "But yours is a much lovelier purple." He traced the brim of her hat lightly and then put on his. "Shall we?"

 

Hope followed Jefferson into his cellar where he locked up his magic hat. It was cool and dark and smelled like potatoes. The chest he kept the hatbox in was very plain but Jefferson handled it with reverence, unlocking it with a key on a chain around his neck she hadn't noticed before. With hatbox in tow, he led her back up to his sitting room.

 

"Do you have everything?" He asked, slipping on his coat and securing their breakfast in a satchel. "Dreamberry powder?"

 

Hope nodded, reaching into her bodice to pull out the pouch.

 

Jefferson nodded back, his eyes lingering on her neck. "I have some yellow velvet… if you want that to--"

 

Hope reached up to his handkerchief still secured around her cut. "No, I quite like this, thank you," she said and Jefferson looked down.

 

"Right. Well, are you ready?"

 

"I am… so, how does it work?"

 

Jefferson grinned again, stooping over to open the hat box. "Magic, of course."

 

"Magic, yes, but how?"

 

He stood back up, hat brim delicately balanced between his hands, and then stepped into the clearing of the sitting room. "With just a flick of the wrist," he said, lightly tossing the hat in a spin onto the ground.

 

The air crackled and a whisper of purple grew to a whirl then to a cyclone from the hat's insides. Hope gulped and edged over to Jefferson, laid her hand on his arm.

 

"That's… that's the portal?" She shouted over the whooshing of the hat's magic.

 

Jefferson pulled her hand until her arm was threaded through his. "Yeah! It won't hurt you, don't worry."

 

"And you did that?"

 

"With the hat's magic, yes."

 

"Do you have magic?"

 

He leaned over to speak directly into her ear. His words were warm in her hair. "Only enough to work this hat. Don't worry."

 

Jefferson had understood the implications to her question and, no, he wasn't like his employer. Hope breathed a sigh of relief and looped her other arm around his as well so that she was hugging it tightly. "Okay! I want to see what you can do!"

 

He placed a hand over both of hers and then took a step forward. "Hold on tight." Then he leapt into the vortex with Hope clinging to him for dear life.

 

It was disorienting and loud but not unpleasant. Hope felt a bit like she'd been caught up in a stiff wind and then stepped through into a cave. The room they appeared in was fantastical. It shimmered and hummed, the floors a shiny stone with inlaid patterns of intricate golden whorls. It was circular and seemed to extend infinitely above them into a foggy darkness. The sides were curtained with rich fabric and dotted with doorways, each unique, each peculiar, each fascinating.   
 

"Oh, Jefferson…" she whispered in reverence, as if too loud a noise would break the spell.

 

He patted her hand and then gently extricated himself from her grasp. "It's this way."

 

"This is unbelievable… you did this?" She shuffled along behind him, eyes drinking in everything. A bright blue shifting door way here, a stately wooden one there, a looking glass with whimsical gilded frame. She felt drawn toward that one. It must be Wonderland, she assumed.

 

Jefferson was heading away from it, though. "I guided the hat, so, yes, in a way. Over here, Hope." He was striding towards a marble archway painted garish red and yellow and blue, hung with a purple curtain.

 

"Can other people do this? Use your hat? Why doesn't your employer just do this for himself?"

 

He waited in front of the archway for Hope to join him before he responded. "If they have magic, they can get the hat to open a portal, but that doesn't ensure that it'll go where they want. It's my will that creates this room." He settled his hand on her back.

 

"Now… welcome to Olympia," he said and ushered them both through the curtain.

 

* * *

 

 

Jefferson had forgotten just how hot this world got. He was sweltering as they stood in the middle of a rocky hillside and tried to let their eyes adjust to the glaring sun.

 

"My word, it is rather warm here. Is it not?" Hope was fanning herself. "Where are we?"

 

"The town's up there," Jefferson informed her, pointing up at the top of the hill to the shadowy façade of the city wall. "We have to go in through the gate. Come on."

 

Unlike Jefferson's assumption, he found that Hope wasn't much for complaining. After the simple observation of the heat, she didn't mention it again or much of anything else. She was busy drinking in everything she saw. It took them only a few minutes to reach the gate and even less to get into town. The gatekeeper remembered him, tried flirting with Hope. She'd responded cordially, like he was just making conversation. Indeed, she was naïve.

 

The marketplace had come as a shock to her. So much so that she broke her amazed silence and voiced a few instances of astonishment.

 

"Dear gracious me!" She stopped dead as they rounded the corner into an open square where a wrestling competition was being held. "They're… they're…"

 

"Nude, yes."

 

Hope turned to look up at Jefferson, her eyes wide, face red as a beet. "Why ever in the world would they be that, out here, in public?" She was absolutely looking anywhere but at the near dozen stark nude, oiled up, male wrestlers.

 

Jefferson shrugged, trying not to laugh. He'd forgotten, though, even if he'd remembered he wasn't sure he would have warned her, with a reaction like this. "It's their custom, I suppose. I tend not to ask questions when the people are… exposed. Makes for awkward conversation."

 

"I would imagine," she huffed and marched past, nose in the air. "It's indecent. Now… I've… my modesty… what if the women in this world saw that?!"

 

Jefferson jogged around a fish cart and a band of screaming children to catch back up with her. "I doubt it would bother them. I don't think nudity is so… indecent here." He nodded towards a band of dancing women, all nude as well, and Hope gasped.

 

"Dear lord." She was redder than he'd thought a person could turn. In fact, she was almost purple, to match her hat. "I… I… I may not be cut out for traveling with you, Jefferson."

 

"No, come this way. You'll adjust, I did." He took her lightly by the elbow and led her towards the outskirts of the town. It was quieter this way and soon Hope relaxed a little.

 

"Where are we going now?" She asked, clearly noticing how the atmosphere was changing where they were heading.

 

"To an oracle, a seer. Maybe she'll be able to tell us where the hourglass is."

 

They had hardly crossed the threshold of the little stone hut when the oracle began chanting at them. He couldn't see her but she clearly saw them, or saw something about them.

 

"Strangers from another world, linger not here. What you seek lies in the east, with the cattle and the harp."

 

They stood dumb in the door way and waited for more, but the oracle appeared to have had her say and was not going to share any more. Hope tugged on his arm once they were back outside.

 

"That was hardly a useful prophecy. How will we know where to go now?"

 

Jefferson sighed deeply. Nothing was ever clear in Olympia, but as things normally came, that oracle was fairly straightforward. "I think east is a good direction to start. We'll ask the first shepherd we meet for help."

 

Unfortunately for them, the first shepherd they met was also twenty feet tall and liked to eat people. They were hiding under a bush, trying to breathe silently when Hope decided to point out that it wasn't a great plan he'd had.

 

"Yes, thank you," he breathed. "Any suggestions?"

 

"He doesn't seem to have the best eyesight, so maybe we could just sneak past?"

 

"Except, like ogres, I'm pretty sure he makes up for that with excellent hearing."

 

"Ogres?"

 

"Yes, I'll explain later. Maybe we can distract him."

 

Hope grew agitated and rolled closer under the bush and into Jefferson. "He's sniffing. I think he can smell us," she almost whimpered. Then her eyes shot wide open. Before he could ask why, Jefferson felt a tug on his feet and was instantly several dozen feet in the air, upside down.

 

"You're dressed strangely little man," the giant had very unpleasant breath, though it disgustingness complimented his single oozing eye.

 

Jefferson was surprised the beast could even see him well enough to comment on his garb. He watched his hatter flutter to the ground in dismay. It could snag.

 

"Well, you're a touch underdressed, as it seems. At least a loincloth would have been decent, you're no Olympic athlete." Jefferson drawled, meanwhile subtly nodding his head to Hope to run.

 

Instead she just shot out of the bush and started yipping. "Is that anyway to treat a stranger to your land, sir? To chase him round, roaring like a bandersnatch, and then catch him up by his toes to hang like a fish?"

 

"Oh, the little man has also brought a little lady. A matched set." The great brute reached down for Hope but she stuck a pair of scissors, which Jefferson hadn't seen her tuck into her bodice, into his thumb. The giant howled and dropped Jefferson.

 

The fall wasn't great. It left him unconscious.

 

* * *

 

 

Hope was in a white hot panic. She was pretty sure she'd heard a crack when Jefferson hit the ground and those scissors were the only weapon she had. They were currently lodged in the giant's thumb.

 

"You dirty little witch," it snarled and reminded Hope of something.

 

She'd been called a witch once before, and she just so happened to have the reason for that on her person at that moment. Hoping to redirect the creature's blundering rampage away from trampling Jefferson, she hiked up her skirts and sprinted for a nearby cave.

 

"This way, monster!" She shrieked and dove beneath a tiny overhang. The shaking of the ground told her she only had a few seconds to get her dreamberry powder out before she was taking a ride into the air as well.

 

"You can't hide in there. I move mountains!" Sure enough the overhang creaked and then splintered and then was ripped clean away, leaving Hope exposed to the beast's horrible bulk.

 

"That will teach you manners!" She spat in an attempt to stall some more, but he was already reaching for her and he was too far away blow the dust into his face, so she sallied up her courage and took a deep breath. "Now, apologize immediately."

 

That elicited a round of thunderous laughter which continued as Hope was lifted, thankfully by the waist, into the air. "You have a sense of humor, I'll give you that, little woman. Any other jokes before I eat you?"

 

Hope had the pouch open and a whole handful of powder at the ready. She just needed the beast to open his mouth.

 

"Only that I hope you choke on my petticoats." She took the opportunity of his halting laughter to blow nearly the whole of her pouch's powder into his mouth and nose.

 

"What!?" He bellowed. "What is this witchcraft?" He flailed around trying to wipe his nose and mouth and eye and eventually dropped Hope into a tree as he tottered and then swayed and then fell crashing to the ground. He was snoring in an instant.

 

"Jefferson?" Hope ran straight to him. He was breathing, but not waking to his name. "Jefferson?!" She squeaked, lifting his head onto her lap, brushing the hair and dust from his face.

 

"You're breathing, that means you're alive. Wake, please, Jefferson! Wake up!" She shook his shoulder carefully and continued nervously running her fingers through his hair, obsessively sweeping it from his face. She had no knowledge of what to do in this sort of situation. Her medical learning extended to cut and burns and disease, not a dozen foot drop on the head. She sat on the ground, cradling his head and rocking for some time before she realized she was crying.

 

What a silly, pointless thing to do, she scolded herself. She needed to snap right out of that immediately and do something. She carefully laid Jefferson's head back down on the ground and started running her hands over him, looking for breaks or sprains, anything that could have caused that cracking sound. She found it when she reached his left side.

 

Jefferson gasped and his eyes flew open, bright and blue and wild. He had some broken ribs.

 

"Oh, Jefferson! You're awake, thank goodness!" Hope scrambled back up to his head and helped him to sit up. "Easy, easy, easy. You fell quite a long way and I'm fairly sure you broke some ribs."

 

"Yes, yes I can feel that." He reached for his side, winced when he found it. Then he gingerly felt his head. "I think I may have concussed myself as well. That or there's two of you now, which could be interesting."

 

Hope giggled nervously and fought the urge to vomit. She was terrified, shaking and yet laughing. "I'm just glad you're alright. I was worried you wouldn't wake up there."

 

"Me too," he groaned, "when I saw the ground rushing at me. What happened, after you stabbed the monster with my best wire shears?"

 

Hope blushed, she hadn't meant to lose his scissors, just borrow them for protection. "He chased me, then caught me, then tasted nearly my whole store of dreamberry dust."

 

Jefferson broke into a wide smile only to wince again. "Well done, Hope. I'm impressed, and grateful. Now you've saved my life." He eyed her for a moment and then crawled over to where his hat had fluttered to the ground.

 

"Well, I couldn't let my ride back home be eaten by an one-eyed giant."

 

"No, no of course not." He stood brushing the dust from the hat. "That would be a real dampening of your trip." He doubled over as soon as he stood all the way up. The ribs were going to be a problem.

 

"Here, here. Let me help." Hope caught him and eased him onto a boulder. "Let me see."

 

"You're not too embarrassed?" Jefferson hissed as she went about unfastening his waist coat.

 

"Don't be silly, this is health and aid. Nothing to be embarrassed about-- oh dear." She sucked in a gasp as she pulled his shirt up to his chest and exposed his side. It was already purpling. "Oh, those are undoubtedly broken. We need to get a poultice on that to help with the swelling and to draw off the bruising. I wonder… if there is any numb-grass in this land."

 

Hope stood back up and began looking around at the vegetation. It was unfortunately pretty sparse.

 

"Hope. I'll be fine. I just need a second to catch my breath." Jefferson caught her hand and shook his head. "Stay here. Please. I don't know what else might be out there."

 

The look of concern was touching, the little wrinkle between his brow, replacing their normal upturned curve. Maybe it was the panic and then the rush of relief, maybe it was that little look, but in that moment Hope wasn't too embarrassed. She dropped down in front of him and, taking his face, his beautifully confused face in her hands, kissed him square on the mouth. His lips were startled and still but just as soft as they looked.

 

Hope stood up and away from him feeling rather accomplished actually. It wasn't a particularly special kiss, nothing fancy or skilled about it, just her lips pressed to his, but at least she could say she'd tried it. And she did it, by her own choice. That was something.

 

Jefferson was staring at her. The concussion seemed to have made his eyes even bigger than normal. She bent over to look into his face.

 

"Are you unwell, Jefferson?"

 

"Did you just kiss me?"

 

"Why, yes. Yes, I did. I'm sorry was that inappropriate?"

 

He lifted his hand to his lips and then looked at it. "No… no… not inappropriate, though it's not often I get my life saved and then kissed for it. Normally those are separate, or the other way 'round… Was that your first time kissing someone?"

 

Hope blushed for the dozenth time that day. "Yes, I'm sorry if it was--"

 

"No, I was only wondering. Nothing bad, a little hard, though. Here." He took her hand and pulled her back down in front of him. "Try this."

 

Jefferson brushed her hair from her face, thumb trailing over her jaw like a whisper. Then he cupped her face in his hands, her whole cheek fit neatly in his palm. Tilting her chin up to him he caught her lips with his own, but did more than just press them to one another. Her breath caught as his mouth moved, she reached up to thread her hands in his scarf, in his hair so he wouldn't leave. With gentle coaxing he loosened her lips, took them one by one, painted them with his sweet pressure. Hope kept leaning into him even after he drew away, steadied her by the shoulder.

 

"I should have asked if that was okay to do," he commented as Hope stared at him.

 

Her butterflies were in a full-fledged riot in her chest. She just managed to shake her head as he watched her. Well, yes, it would have been more polite to ask, but that would have ruined the surprise of it. And Hope never wanted to forget how surprising it felt.

 

"Poultice," she mumbled.

 

"What?"

 

"Poultice. Poultice, I need to make a poultice for your side." She stood up quickly and began scanning the ground for useful herbs.

 

"Hope. Hope, wait. No, come back here, please. Hope! That's--that's not how that was… supposed to go."

 

Hope stopped and spun back around. 'Supposed?'

 

"Do you mean to say that my reaction was not your intended effect?"

 

Jefferson looked startled again.

 

"Did you plan on this, on… on…, oh! I don't know what! Scaring me to death before kissing me?"

 

"Before. You think I planned this? That I'd woo you with my busted head? You're the one who kissed me first."

 

"On a whim, now clearly a very bad whim! I should never have listened to that imp!"

 

"Rumpelstiltskin told you to kiss me?!" Jefferson was on his feet now, holding his side.

 

"He must have seen me considering it this morning, when I made the right decision _not_ to!"

 

"You were considering it before?" All his rage died out like a snuffed lamp. He sank back down onto the boulder and gazed at her.

 

"Well, yes, of course I was, silly. You're surprised by that?"

 

He nodded.

 

"Well… I was. So… there." Hope dragged her toes in swirls in the dirt. "How… how was it supposed to go?"  
 

Jefferson blinked rapidly and shook his head. "I don't know… I just didn't imagine your reaction to be to go look for plants."

 

"So… You did think about it… you… imagined kissing me?" Hope's stomach twisted into a knot and her butterflies fluttered wildly in a mad attempt to escape.

 

Jefferson was wide-eyed for a moment. "I'm concussed. I cannot be held responsible for what I say."

 

"What did you imagine?" Hope crept over to him, on her knees again, totally enthralled.

 

"I… nothing. You mentioned… last night. The bed… and together… and I wasn't sure what you were implying."

 

"Implying? I wasn't implying anything, except that we could easily share that enormous bed of yours… did you think I was…?"

 

"No! No! Not… eventually, no. I decided you were too… well, naïve for that."

 

"Naïve?! Well, I never! I am inexperienced, yes, but that does not make me ignorant."

 

"No, I suppose not. I'm sorry, I… this is getting worse and worse." Jefferson dropped his face into his hands and then groaned in pain.

 

"I… Jefferson, stop fretting. You're only going to hurt yourself. Here," Hope tilted his head up and looked into his eyes. They shrank in the light, a good sign. "Let's stop this for now, take care of your side and head. Do you know the plants?"

 

He shook his head. "Hope, I'm sorry." Jefferson was terribly sincere when concussed. "I did imagine showing you this. Teaching you something for a change, but not like this. Definitely not within scent range of a putrid one-eyed giant."

 

She was burning to the roots of her hair. He had thought about her, it wasn't just Hope being hopeful. "How… how did you imagine it?"

 

Jefferson shut his eyes tight and sat silently, like he was fighting over something. "Oh, in a nicer place than this, in the Forest, at home. And not injured and sweating. And… more…" He grimaced and stood, still wincing as he approached her. "Like this, not hunkered over on a rock."

 

"Try again," Hope said calmly, but definitely without thinking.

 

Jefferson looked surprised. "What?"

 

"I said, 'try again'," she repeated, surprising herself with her authoritative tone.

 

Strangely, Jefferson threw an elfin grin at her. "Is that your schoolmistress voice?"

 

"Yes," she intoned like in front of a horde of feisty little ones.

 

Jefferson hummed a small laugh and then sank his hands into her hair, winding and twisting until his fingers pressed into her scalp with an inviting pressure. Then he bent over, only half successfully hiding the pain it caused him, and ensnared her mouth. This time was different though. Hope was ready, she embraced and littered him with tentative whisperings in return. She was just getting used to parting her lips when he surprised her again. His tongue left her lip buzzing from its warm touch. When their two met she felt light-headed.

 

Hope was the one who had to part from their kiss this time, so she could breathe. Jefferson was still there, however, peppering her lips with small pecks, trailing them down to her jaw, then returning to leave one chaste press against her lower lip.

 

"More like that," he said with some degree of self-satisfaction. His lips were red, his cheeks flushed. Hope freed her hands from his hair and straightened her hat which had slid back and almost off her head. She felt the urge to end their escapade by sticking her little finger in the dimple of his chin. Instead, she made due with watching him lick his lips.

 

Her butterflies traveled lower, grew warm. "Do you always use your tongue?"

 

"Oh, I should have warned--"

 

"No, I liked it. I was only asking."

 

Jefferson grinned and finished straightening Hope's hat for her. "You taste like tea," he teased and eased himself back onto the boulder.

 

"You look like hell," Hope teased back, lifting up his shirt again. The bruise was flowering darker and angrier. "I really do need to find something to treat this. I'll be right back."

 

Jefferson nodded and she skipped off, squatting down and inspecting the small brush plants around them. She'd almost made it up a nearby hill when she heard Jefferson calling her name. He sounded cautious. He looked guarded, he was even on his feet again.

 

"Hope, come back here, please."

 

"Why?" She answered, scampering down the small slope anyway. "Something wrong?" She had thought he had been looking up at her, but turning to follow his eyes, she found something else.

 

"Is that a… flying chariot?" She asked, though needed no answer. It clearly was and it was heading right for them. But then, it just vanished.

 

"What?" They both wondered aloud.

 

Hope gently threaded her arm through Jefferson's on his right side. "Were those snakes?"

 

"They were," a woman's voice answered to their left. It's owner stood, in shimmering violet gown, on top of the one-eyed giant's chest. "My serpents, my chariot, my Cyclops whom you've just incapacitated. Nice to see you, Jefferson."

 

Hope was confused. "You know this woman?"

 

"Not really," he whispered back. "She's a local… trader in goods."

 

"I'm Medea, child, and I concoct potions. Some for sell, others… for fun. What did you use on my Cyclops, little one." She was walking but it seemed more like the ground moved beneath her. A sorceress for sure.

 

"Dreamberry," Jefferson responded for Hope. "It's from another land, it's not permanent."

 

He flinched away when Medea approached, shuffled to stand somewhat in front of Hope.

 

"And I'm not here to trade. I didn't know this was your land. No harm, no foul. If you let us, we'll just leave."

 

The sorceress waved her hand and Jefferson's shears materialized. "These gouged into my sentry's thumb say otherwise."

 

"He was trying to eat us!" Hope piped up.

 

"And what good would he be to me if he let just anyone wander onto my land uneaten?" Medea sneered down at Hope. "You are a little thing, but you're bold. Quite like myself, I think. And this dreamberry, you say? Sounds like my kind of fruit. Have you any more?"

 

Hope shook her head. "Your giant needed the full pouch."

 

"Yes, he would. He's rather large and rather dense. I see he gave our realm hopper a little ride before that." She pointed at Jefferson's left side. "Those are broken."

 

He jerked away and hissed in pain as Medea lifted his shirt.

 

"Uh-uh. Hold still or you'll make it worse." She stood back up when she'd finished assessing. "A treatment of panacea, ground and mixed with water, packed onto the ribs will do it." She waved her hand and materialized a blood-red plant with white flowers. "Secure loosely with wrappings, little one, and…" she reached for Hope's bodice and fished out the dreamberry pouch, "you'll have to do better than that to fool the queen of lies, child. This will be my payment for the cure and my mercy."

 

Medea magicked away the pouch and stepped back to the chariot that had just materialized. "Thank you for the spectacle, by the way. I do love seeing a maiden's first kiss. Oh, and Jefferson, the thief is in the mountains. He knows you're looking for the hourglass, so be ready for his tricks. I'd hate to lose my best customer. Who'll buy hydra poison if not you?"

 

"Hydra poison?" Hope asked as they watched Medea fly away with her snake-drawn chariot.

 

"Good for ogres," Jefferson replied with a shrug. "Do you know what to do with that?"

 

Hope rolled her eyes. "I did say I needed to make you a poultice, did I not? Well, this is what I'll make it from. Now sit back and stay still.

 

She wiped clean on the underside of her dress the scissors Medea had left and began snipping the pant into small pieces. In a divot of a nearby stone she mashed the plant with another rock and added water bit by bit from their skin until it was a paste. Then she ripped a strip from one of her petticoats and, gently smoothing the mixture onto Jefferson's side, bound it with her skirt cloth.

 

"There," she announced proudly as Jefferson visibly relaxed. The pain seemed to already be lessened. She dropped his shirt over the bandaging and collected another slather on her fingertips.

 

"Now for your concussion. I'm sure this'll help that as well." She felt around through his hair until she found a bit of slight swelling and then carefully rubbed the poultice onto it. Jefferson sighed.

 

His eyes fluttered open as Hope smoothed his hair back into place and repositioned his hat. "That is incredible." He looked at her in surprise. "I already… feel better."

 

"Poisons are only a shade away from medicines, I… and that Medea obviously, know how to use them both. How's your side?"

 

He reached to his ribs, shook his head. "Can't feel it, the pain, I mean."

 

Hope grinned and then stood up, pattering over to the remaining poultice and packing it into a spare leather pouch. "Outstanding. I have a feeling we'll be able to find something to use this on later. I wonder if I can find any more of that plant while we're trouncing around this land. What did she call it?"

 

"Panacea, and you won't find it. Medea keeps it under lock and key, it's her specialty, the plants of this world and anything else that can be mixed into a potion." Jefferson was already tucking his shirt into his trousers, buttoning up his waistcoat again. He clearly was back to no-pain normal. He shrugged on his coat and joined Hope at the rock. "Speaking of, she meant temporary mercy. If we're here too long she might just come back and do something else morally questionable."

 

* * *

 

 

Hope was studying Jefferson like she didn't think he had any room to talk. "And you trade with her?"

 

He shrugged, "best potions and poisons in the realms. And like I said, hydra poison is singularly good for getting rid of ogres, and that I don't even need your help to know is a good thing."

 

Hope humphed and cinched up the pouch. "If you say so. Now, I heard something about a thief and tricks. Maybe we should worry about that."

 

No. Jefferson knew what they were up against now. There was no point in worrying, there was nothing they could do. "We'd just be wasting energy. I know where we're going. To the grave of Argos."

 

Hope tittered nervously and then grabbed his hand when Jefferson kept walking. "To a grave? Uh, no thank you. Not without know what is waiting. I'm assuming you deciphered that from all the cryptic clues. Who has the hourglass Jefferson?"

 

When he turned to her, Hope's brown eyes were set in determination, her arms crossed. Jefferson conceded defeat. "It's a waste of energy because unless he wants us to, we're not going to find him. The person who stole the hourglass isn't really a person, he's a… god. Hermes is his name." He clicked his tongue before adding without relish, "trickery is his game. I've got nothing on this guy."

 

Hope smiled, to his surprise, and smoothed her skirts before marching on. "Then we ask him nicely? Maybe he'll understand."


	7. Tricks and Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tricksters at every turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning: there's a bit of coerced consensual groping in this one. Just be ready to look away if that's triggering.

Hope hardly noticed the distance they covered after the Cyclops-Medea incident. She was too busy noticing all the strange things about this place, asking Jefferson questions, thinking about how he'd kissed her, why he'd kissed her like that.

 

"So…"

 

Jefferson looked down from scanning the horizon. "So, what?"

 

"How much of what happened back there was because you were concussed?"

 

"Well," Jefferson looked down at her, mischief back in his face, "the near fainting, the confession of my fantasies, and the uncharacteristic lack of eloquence."

 

Hope giggled as he stepped into her path, softly nudged her. She nudged back. "Yes, thus far you've been unstintingly glib."

 

He feigned offense. "I _am_ known for being mellifluent. You've just… not seen me at my best. For some reason, around you I keep being befuddled. I'm beginning to think you have some magic, too."

 

Jefferson was very good at making Hope blush, tongue-tied or not. "So, I'm… magical and you kissing me back was not because you hit your head too hard. Correct?"

 

He scoffed, "straight arrow attention you have. Uh… I guess so. Look, I'm… I'm not a romantic person. I don't have relationships so, please, don't read too much into that. I like the idea of us working together, I don't want to spoil that with… complications."

 

"Complications? No. No, of course not. Sticking your tongue in someone's mouth, and confiding in your desire to teach one something for a change wouldn't complicate your standing with them."

 

Jefferson recoiled from the bite to her words.

 

"Your impression of a fish is getting better, Jefferson. Do you believe you alone can use sarcasm?"

 

He shut his mouth and blinked rapidly. "You're… not upset, are you?"

 

"Upset? Please Jefferson, I'm not a _naïve_ schoolgirl. A little disappointed perhaps, but not upset. That was a fine kiss to learn by."

 

"You're being sarcastic again."

 

Hope snorted, "you were giving mixed signals, I am disappointed and confused. Your world might be less full of whimsy as mine, but such rapid changes in direction still make my head hurt. But I'm not upset. No, to me it all sounds like a cop out, like you're scared. And you're allowed to be, but you should know, I like you Jefferson. I liked you when I saw you from the Highway, that's why I helped you, I had a good feeling about you. And I think that you liked me, which is really why you helped me, why you kissed me twice and care about what I think and feel. You can continue saying and thinking otherwise, but I won't believe it until I see it."

 

" _I'm_ whimsical? You're mercurial by definition. You go from being a bashful, blushing, giggling girl who can't look at a man shirtless to a scolding, know-it-all knocking out giants and talking me in circles in a blink of an eye! What am I to expect? How can I… _do anything_ if I don't know which is really you?"

 

Hope burst into laughter. "Which?! My dear, silly Jefferson, there is no 'which.' I'm both, at the same time. You must not have known many people, let alone women, if you don't know that people are rather complex. You think my modesty and assertiveness are mutually exclusive? I took care of myself for three years after leaving the Court. Three whole years all by myself. One does not survive as just a sweet, innocent child by oneself in Wonderland. Or any land, I expect. I doubt you did. You grow, like how the considerate, curious boy you were figured out how to survive with mischief and clever wit. And here you are, all those things at once, under that brash, prickly exterior of sarcasm and affectation you're sweet and idealistic and looking for wonderment."

 

She found laughter bubbling out of her again. "Silly _boy!_ So, there. I may be innocent of some things, but at least I know who I am and what I want. I am a bashful, blushing, giggling, scolding, know-it-all woman who's saved your life… twice now, I think, and who would very much like to get to know you better, and maybe your mouth. But first, I want to meet this god and see what all the fuss is about."

 

She walked a few paces before spinning around to face him and adding, "I may have kissed you first, but you are an inveterate flirt. All that, 'you must be somewhat magic' nonsense, and your wicked grins and…and… your casual grazes and nudges!"

 

It was Jefferson's turn to laugh. "What about your coy simpers and the little gazes up from under your lashes. And walking around in your underthings!"

 

"I was all covered up!"

 

He snorted and shook his head. _"You're_ the flirt. And I know who I am… in case you were really wondering about what you lectured on."

 

"Oh, yeah? And who's that?"

 

He flashed that frustratingly enigmatic grin. "You'll find out. In time. I plan on keeping you around."

 

Hope chuckled smugly to herself. "You like me as well."

 

"You're maddening."

 

* * *

Jefferson did know who he was. For the most part, though not so well as Hope seemed to know him already. What he didn't know was what he wanted. He'd been traveling, running for years, but never to anything, just away. Away from the hunger, the nightmares, from the questions. Then from the guardsmen, the hunters, the executors after him for his mischiefs. Then, away from the boredom and the emptiness. At this point, it was just habit, ten years of habit.

 

Before he met Hope, he had said he wanted the money, the excitement, something to do. And that was all well and good, he still wanted those things. But when Hope had said 'what he wanted', those things hadn't come up to his mind. A question had. Did he want a change?

 

He kicked a rock, watched it bounced over and again, watched the flies buzz up out of their way then land together again. It'd be nice to have something to run to, and that kiss… that kiss had been special. Bar wenches and their ilk didn't kiss like that, or if they did, it didn't have the same effect. He'd been serious when he said Hope might have a little magic about her.

 

She was fascinating, saw right through him, and yet he was constantly surprised by her. He used to think that _he_ could see through people, but that was clearly a talent she could school him on. Looking over at Hope, he found her smugly smiling. She was not naïve, he'd been very wrong about that. A little untried at some things, not some things, just relationships with men, but not ignorant. She'd certainly showed him that.

 

It made him more curious. Damn, bedeviling woman confounding him, with her sparkling words and eyes. And those lips. He wanted to kiss her again, would have continued kissing her after she collected herbs to heal him if that sorceress hadn't showed up. Though, he was grateful for the cure. Then, Hope had to… _talk_ about things. It was infuriating that she could talk him into corners; infuriating _and_ enticing. He did like a challenge.

 

"What are you thinking about so hard with your scrunched up brow and pouty mouth. It must be important to keep you quiet for this long." She was vaunting her latest win. He was all bluster, but she was substance.

 

"How we'll approach Hermes," he deflected.

 

"Mmmm. And how is that?" She was on to him, he could tell by the tone of her voice, but she had the courtesy to not rub it in his face outright.

 

"I haven't figured that out yet."  
 

"So, you're not convinced that just asking nicely will do it. Sometimes, being straightforward is the best option." She half sang her the last bit.

 

"You want me to just walk up and tell him that I would like to have the hourglass that he somehow crossed worlds to steal? Just like that?"

 

Hope spun and then skipped ahead. "Just like that. For instance, I told you what I wanted and I feel much better for it, knowing now that you know so we can go about our business honestly. It's just easier. I know I'm not as versed as you in those ways, so my honesty is my only way. Like us with this Hermes. He's a god, you say, and he specializes in, what was it? Trickery and thieving, both your normal methods. He can also cross realms, like you. So, you know your normal approach won't work, you can't out-fox him. Maybe being upfront will work."

 

Jefferson shook his head. "Mmm, I don't think so. Look at how well your honesty turned out for you. _You're_ not getting what you want."

 

He could have sworn her eyes literally lit up. "Aren't I?"

 

He considered her. Was she bluffing? He just couldn't tell. He certainly hadn't admitted anything to her. But maybe she had other ways of telling. She _could_ see right through him in other ways.

 

"Well… in any case, the results for our little endeavor have to be a little more immediate than your madcap plan to win me over with your disarming forwardness."

 

Hope shrugged her shoulders, a tiny little motion and then turned away. "It may be madcap, but that doesn't change the fact that you've been staring at my mouth when you talk to me."

 

"I have to agree with the girl, Jefferson. You have been staring at her, and not only at her mouth."

 

Jefferson's heart sunk. Their element of surprise was now lost. He plucked up anyways. "Let me guess… Hermes?"

 

The strangely youthful shepherd standing on the mountainous outcropping above them curtsied. "In the flesh. Rumor has it, and I don't always trust her, she tends to exaggerate, that you're looking for me. You two precisely: the man in the strange hat and many, _many_ layers of clothing and his woman friend who looks like a big, other world cake. I _really_ like the matching hats."

 

"And you found us because--"

 

"Oh, I found you because there was enough sexual tension here to draw my father's eye and make him jealous. I told him I'd take care of it."

 

Jefferson cleared his throat. He didn't know much about the 'gods' of this realm but he did know Zeus was infamously promiscuous. "Great,  well, you heard my traveling companion's proposal, I assume."

 

The youth hopped down the rocks like a goat and then skipped in front of them. He didn't look very assuming for being a 'god.' He did have familiarly impish grin, however.

 

"Well, you and I, Jefferson, ply the same sort of trade. Maybe two fellow businessmen can work out some of arrangement."

 

Jefferson scoffed, but Hope elbowed him. "Oh, okay… but what could I have that you can't get yourself? You can cross worlds, that is my one bargaining chip."

 

Hermes quirked an eyebrow at him. "I _can,_ but I'm not supposed to. And, believe it or not, it's terribly hard work." He stepped closer, twirling his shepherd's crook until it flashed into a golden staff. "I, too, have my ways of getting here and there." He flicked his wrist and his garb melted into deep blue robes, golden winged-sandals and a smooth leather cap.

 

"And I have my own magic hat," the god said with a wink. "But… crossing realms is a pain and my father gets cranky. I really only stole the hourglass to prove that I could. I don't _need_ it."

 

He held out his hand, now with the bejeweled hourglass sitting on his palm.

 

"In fact, you can have it. I don't _need_ anything. I do _want_ something, though, in return."

 

Jefferson drew a deep breath, crossed his arms. He'd dealt enough with other tricksters to know that he wasn't going to like what was offered after that kind of buildup. Word games didn't bode well. "And just what is it that you _want?"_

 

"Oh, you're right to be suspicious. You won't like it." Hermes was circling them now. The passivity of his face almost as chilling as one of Rumpelstiltskin's smirks. "And it's not _your_ choice, Jefferson. It's milady's. Hope, is it?"

 

"Me?"

 

"Yes, maid. Yours. You and I can deal straight." Hermes grinned winningly at Hope and then glanced askance at Jefferson. "I enjoy… sacrifice. I don't need anything, so nothing that I _ask for_  is valuable to me. It's the act of others giving up something valuable that I want. Makes me all warm and fuzzy. And from you, maid, I want that kiss, the one you've both been daydreaming about."

 

Jefferson felt the wind sucked from him. Hope looked equally surprised as Hermes gazed between the two of him, his eyes twinkling.

 

"No," Jefferson growled out when he found his breath again.

 

Hermes shook his wand at him. "No, I'm sorry, Jeff. This one's not your call."

 

"My name's Jefferson."

 

"Mmm. Well, it's Hope's decision, her lips. Oh, and if it makes it any easier, I'll be looking like this." The god tapped his head with his wand and melted into a perfect reflection of Jefferson. "Eh? What do you say, Hope?"

 

It was chilling, seeing himself walking around Hope, like on the prowl, hearing his voice. Hope seemed baffled. She looked between Hermes and Jefferson with wide brown eyes.

 

"It's just a kiss?"

 

"Just a kiss."

 

"And you'll give us the hourglass?"

 

"It's yours." The jewel encrusted thing appeared at Jefferson's feet. "But she's not leaving without the kiss or neither of you are with that hourglass."

 

"Why?" Jefferson asked, his throat dry.

 

"Because I want something valuable for all the work I went through to get that. I feel like I've already said this? Echo? Are you here?"

 

"No," Hope replied calmly. "You want it because it'll stir up mischief. You're like the Cheshire Cat."

 

Now Jefferson saw what Hope meant about that wicked grin of his. It was unsettling, though hopefully not so much so as it was just then.

 

"Okay, so I like that, too. And you're a pretty little thing and the tension's _killing_ me, I've got to know what it's all about. So, kiss or miss?"

 

"Fine."

 

"Hope."

 

But she held out her hand to him. "Like he said, Jefferson, it's my choice. And it's only a kiss. What do _you_ care?"

 

"I don't." It was already the worst lie he'd ever told, but his reflection laughing at him made it ever so much worse.

 

Hope gave him a heartfelt look and then turned to Hermes. "Well, what are you waiting for? I said 'yes'."

 

If Jefferson had known that watching Hope kiss someone else would be a fifth as painful as it was, he would have put up a more of a fight. But as it was, seeing his hands on her, his mouth, but not being the one touching her paralyzed him. It was like he'd been dropped by that one-eyed giant again and his head was swimming. The worst part was, he was watching his body do it better than before. That was the kiss he'd imagined the night before, hands all over her, touching her in places he hadn't yet, where she'd never been touched by a man before.

 

She squeaked slightly when he cupped her bottom, fondled a breast. It made Jefferson growl, but he couldn't move, the god had seen to that. He was rooted to the spot. _That_ wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it. She shouldn't be uncomfortable. It lasted too long for his patience. He nearly keeled over when he heard her moan quietly, but unlike what he'd strangely hoped in that moment, it wasn't a moan of discomfort. Hermes-in-Jefferson-shape broke away a few too many moments later and exhaled deeply.

 

"Whew, that was a doozy. You've both been brewing that up for a few days now." He wiped a thumb over his lip and then melted out of Jefferson's shape. "I love the way a good fantasy tastes. Feels even better. Okay!"

 

Hope ran her hand over her mouth and then tottered back over to Jefferson. Hermes grinned and then held out his hands.

 

"Well? What are you waiting for? The hourglass is yours. Off to the Enchanted Forest!" He waved his hands at them and they appeared in front of the portal, hourglass in Jefferson's hand.

 

Jefferson immediately stooped over and took Hope by the arms. "Are you okay?"

 

She nodded, "a little… frazzled and well, confused. But I'm fine. And we have the hourglass, let's go."

 

He exhaled loudly, "what were you thinking, Hope?"

 

Her brows shot to her hairline. "What was I thinking? I was _thinking_ I could get what we came here for."

 

"And with a trickster god? Didn't you think about--"

 

"About how dangerous he was? Yes. About how dangerous it would be to reject him? About how unlikely it would be to leave unharmed and with the hourglass if I did reject him? Yes. I _thought_ about all that, Jefferson." She swallowed, bold in word but she couldn't meet his eye. Her hands squeezed tight around her elbows, pressing her arms against her chest, pulling away from his touch.

 

Jefferson dropped his hands immediately. "I see. And now you can't look at me. How perfect."

 

"Now you care?" She snapped, but immediately softened. "You don't really care about what just happened. You just feel guilty that I had to pay the price for your deal. Don't fret over it. I'll get my due when you give this to your imp." She gently threaded her hand through his arm and then stepped into the archway, Jefferson stumbling in behind her.

 

"Stop," he said softly inside the hat room. "Hope, stop. Please. Let me… let me apologize."

 

"Apologize?" she came to a stop directly in front of him, brown eyes locked on his face. "Whatever for, you silly man?"

 

He sighed in exasperation. "For creating that situation. It was the contention that would create that he fed off of. If… if I hadn't been so stubborn and answered your frankness with frankness it might have been avoided."

 

"And then how would we have secured the hourglass?"

 

"I don't know, but you wouldn't feel so violated as you do now." He paused and then added, "nor would I, for that matter. Uh… not to compare them--"

 

Hope stopped his backpedaling with a hand. "He might not have touched you but he invaded your person by wearing your form. I understand, we both paid for that one. And… he took… he knew…"

 

"He was a mind reader. I know. I saw. He acted out precisely--"

 

"He did things from your mind, too? That's what he meant about tasting fantasies? Oh, thank goodness." For some reason, Hope actually seemed relieved.

 

"That's a… good thing?"

 

"Well, yes, Jefferson. At least it wasn't completely… _not you_." She smartly straightened her clothes and then nodded. "Shall we? I'd like a bath."

 

Jefferson laughed weakly as he led her to the great oaken door to home. "Yes, I'd expect so. The quicker we get rid of this accursed hourglass the better." He concentrated on the portal, envisioning Rumpelstiltskin's castle. He wasn't in the mood for walking. He'd summon the portal to stay open in the castle.

 

The imp wasn't there when they stepped through.

 

"Uh… where is he?" Hope peered around him, foot wedged against the portal.

 

"I don't know. He's usually here when I step through." Jefferson held out his arm corralling Hope back by the portal. "Stay here. I'll go look."

 

"No, I'd rather come with you. After--"

 

"Oh my, dearies! It smells like drama in here!" Rumpelstiltskin made his grand entrance sitting on the table between them. "What did the thief do to you?"

 

He sniffed, first at Jefferson, then at Hope. "Oh!" He cackled in delight fluttering a finger at Hope. "A stolen kiss. Verrry inciting! But you got it? Where's the hourglass?"

 

Jefferson swung around his satchel, pulled out the thing and held it out. "There. Take the damn thing. I almost died because of it."

 

"Oh-ho-ho-ho! More than the trickster's tricky treat?! Death and daring, did your damsel save you from distress? Twice? Hee, hee, hee!"

 

"She did. Now take this." He shoved the hourglass closer to Rumpelstiltskin.

 

"Oh, yes! I do suppose you two have some things to _discuss!_ Take however much gold you wish and go, _discuss!"_ He snatched up the hourglass from Jefferson and waved to his pile of golden thread. "Oh, and I have a little treat for you dearies. Per your request, hatter. There is now a bed, in her room, in your house."

 

Jefferson paused from stuffing gold into his satchel. He hadn't requested that. "What?"

 

"Oh, yes! No more sleeping in the sitting room!" The imp giggled gleefully and then waved goodbye. "Toodles, you two!"

 

* * *

Jefferson was livid as they stepped back into the hat room, though Hope couldn't fathom why. They stepped out into his living room and he stomped up the stairs like a thunderstorm. Hope followed hesitantly. Jefferson was sitting on a beautiful four-poster bed nearly identical to his own in her room.

 

"Jefferson? Are you… alright?"

 

"He's been spying, he's been watching and listening and looking where he shouldn't." He wasn't facing her, but the floor by her window. "I told him I never wanted him poking into my future or my mind. I'm supposed to be free here. Alone here in my home. Those were my three conditions of privacy for working with him, and he's broken all three!"

 

Hope walked carefully to the bed, sat down across from him, but let him be.

 

"And he _condescends_ to say that he's looking out for me."

 

Hope caught sight of an intricately scripted scroll by his hand. She took it up and read it. Rumpelstiltskin was just as riddling in text as in speech, but basically he said Jefferson had been acting out of character since he came back from Wonderland so he had to take a peek at some things.

 

"What does he mean by 'congratulations?'" Hope asked quietly.

 

Jefferson didn't answer, he just kept staring in front of him. Hope crawled slowly to his side of the bed and gasped. No wonder Jefferson was shaken. He was staring at a cradle.

 

"But… but… we've not… I'm not… whose baby is that for? Do you have a child?"

 

"No. It's in your room," he breathed. "Guess."

 

"But how could he know?"

 

"He can look into the future… had offered to look into mine. I never wanted to know. I like to make my future, when you know you either dread it, or mess it up." Jefferson looked over at her with pain in his eyes. "We are already having enough troubles. We didn't need this sort of pressure."

 

Hope shook her head slowly and slid over to him, laid her hand on his. "He's just trying to show how he can control you. But, he doesn't. If you don't want this, we don't have to have it. We'll make our own future--or you'll make yours and I'll make mine, whichever. This… this is the kind of thing that's easily avoided." She chuckled sadly and then stood up to inspect the cradle. It was beautiful though, orange and purple and just like their beds.

 

"Do you? Want this?" Jefferson's words were thick. "Would you want… a child?"

 

"I love children, Jefferson. I'm a schoolmistress, they're my life, though I've never thought about it before…" no point in hiding anything now. Hope laughed and continued, "before I met you. I never thought about any of those things before I met you."

 

Jefferson was gazing hard at her when she looked back. "This doesn’t scare you?"

 

"Of all the things to be frightened of! A child is not one, unless you don't want one, and then, like I said, easily avoided." She stood back up in front of him and took off his hat, set it aside, brushed his hair from his face. "We'll do whatever we want. We'll have a child but not for years, or we'll never touch again and be perfect business partners, or we'll live apart and never talk, or we'll do everything but have a child, or have many. It's our choice. Don't let the meddling of the imp scare you."

 

Hope offered her gentlest, most assuring smile. Jefferson didn't return it, but his shoulders untensed, he tilted his head to the side.

 

"I'm sorry. This has been a strange day." His eyes looked extra blue in the moonlight, a little tinged with red in the edges.

 

"Jefferson? Are you alright?" She took his face in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the stubble of his cheek. "What's wrong."

 

He closed his eyes quickly, shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I don't know. I don't know what I want. I've been scared today, angry… hurt. I've never felt this much in one day, this much in the course of several days, as much as I've felt since I met you. You're maddening and confusing and I don't know who I am anymore. I feel weak around you and then on top of the world. Thinking of being without you makes me feel empty again but seeing this cradle terrified me. I don't know what I'm feeling, or even what that means."

 

Hope smiled again, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Does it feel like your stomach's boiling?"

 

His eyes darted to hers. "What?"

 

"Like your chest is bubbling, like butterflies are flitting through you?"

 

Jefferson looked away, but leaned into her hand; avoiding her gaze but not her affection. "When I watched you kiss him, as he looked like me, I was petrified but my chest was on fire. When I kissed you my stomach turned over, but when I saw this cradle it flipped again. I don't know what all that means."

 

"Well," Hope stroked his face again, "you have time to figure all that out. I imagine a little more experience with certain things will help you pinpoint exactly what each feeling means."

 

She meant to step away, but he seemed so comforted by her touch, looked so pained by his confusion. So she kept holding his face, kept smoothing his hair.

 

"Thank you, Hope. And I'm sorry."

 

"Shh, shh. None of that right now."

 

"No." He rested his hand over hers. "No, I owe you. I owe you my _life._ I owe you a remedy to bad memories. I owe you more than a temper tantrum and tears. I'm sorry." He scoffed in disgust, "and I was supposed to be the one saving you, teaching you."

 

"Oh, Jefferson, stop. You can't owe me all that or assume that much responsibility."

 

"I can. It's my fault."

 

"It's touching that you care this much, it is. And a big step up from the day I met you, but you're not doing yourself any favors by dwelling on it, or on all these other things you're feeling and can't do anything about."

 

He placed his other hand on hers, now cupping both of hers to his face. "Suppose I could do something, what could I do to undo what he did to you today?"

 

"Well, a cup of tea always helps when I've had a rough afternoon," Hope offered with a grin, but Jefferson was having none of her joviality.

 

"I should take that away, that bad taste in your mouth. I would if I could. A forgetting potion, maybe?"

 

"No, no." Hope slipped her hands out from under his, set them instead on his shoulders. "No magic. I don't like magic when I can live without it. I'm sure in time that kiss will fade away. It'll be some out of focus memory amongst a host of others more pleasant featuring your face. Not to worry, my dear Jefferson."

 

His mouth opened and he looked over her face. "I could do that. I could do that now. I could replace that, write right over it."

 

"What?"

 

"I can't take away that he did what he did, but I can give you something else to think about, to remember."

 

"Jefferson…"

 

He stood up slowly.

 

"You feel guilty, don't confuse affection for guilt, don't force this because you feel guilty." He was looking down at her with such warm intensity that Hope almost choked on her words.

  
"I don't need to force anything. I had to force nonchalance earlier, indifference, but not this. Right now I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you better than he did. I want you to forget that ever happened because of the way that I kiss you." Without touching her he'd managed to make Hope back into the cradle, more out of surprise than any other emotion. He looked surprised himself.

 

"I'm not letting anyone else get what I want again because I'm too scared or uncertain to get it myself. I'm tired of not knowing what I want, and not getting it because of that." His smile quirked for a second, broken and weak but relieved. "I _want_ this, I _want_ to kiss you and I _want_ to do whatever else you'll let me. If you want me to, but… ah, it's _what I want_." His brow high and furrowed, lips pressed tight, like he was going to cry again, but then he grinned. "Do you want that, too?"

 

 

"My Jefferson, you dear silly man, I already told you I wanted that."


	8. Between Wants and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things kind of come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter's a lemon. That's all there is here. Not your cup of tea? Maybe move on to the next one (or not read this fic, sorry...) because, though it's not explicit per se, it's indulgently chock-full of lemony goodness.

Jefferson was awash with new emotions. It had been a whirlwind of a day with all those fresh, unfamiliar feelings bombarding him in inopportune times. As he had looked up at Hope haloed in moonlight, in front of the terrifying, exciting sign of a future with her, he'd been hit in chest with an epiphany. He wanted something, fervently and without question. He wanted to make Hope happy. She said she wanted kids and suddenly the cradle wasn't a curse, it was a blessing. It didn't scare her, it made her excited. He shared that. His stomach tying in knots brought a knowing smile to her face. He wanted to tell her she sent his heart racing when she looked at him. She encouraged him to work through his feelings. He wanted to categorize and label them for her. She wanted to lose that kiss Hermes inflicted upon her in other, better memories. He wanted to write over it then and there, and make her feel so good, moan his name so she would never have cause to think of his face or mouth or hands in a negative light.   
 

When she smiled at him with bright eyes and told him she still wanted him after all the bad he'd put her through in only three days' time, he felt relief like he'd never experienced before. He'd cried in front of her already, the tears that fell now were hot and unguarded on his part. They weren't anything to be ashamed of, they were glad, relieved. He let Hope wiped them gently from his cheeks, as she did before, and kissed her wrists.

 

He lifted the hat from her head and tossed it in the cradle, swept the stray strands of hair from her shoulders, tucked their sisters away from her face and behind her ear. He'd found her a pretty little thing since he'd really seen her for the first time in Wonderland, but in that moment he allowed himself to admit finally that he found her captivating, that he didn't want to take his eyes off of her.

 

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before," Jefferson muttered, tracing the slopes of her face.

 

She licked her lips before answering. "Tell me what?"

 

"That I'm enchanted by you. I just hadn't figured it out for myself yet," he answered, trailing his thumb over her delightful heart-shaped mouth.

 

Hope tittered sweetly. "Not everyone can be as intuitive about their emotions as me." She reached through his arms and combed her fingers through his hair, dragged them down his neck to rest on his chest. Her hands were light and warm but they left burning trails where they'd touch him.

 

Like he'd fantasized before, Jefferson cupped her chin in one hand and let the other ghost over her shoulder, not quite touching but close enough to make her shiver. When he caught her mouth, he made sure to take that plump bottom lip of hers first, to tug on it ever so slightly. When he tasted her again, he made it fleeting and soft, then more present with more pressure. She responded more eagerly this time, knew better what to expect. When he tried something entirely new, when he nipped lightly at that same sweet bottom lip, she gasped and leaned harder into him.

 

His hands glided over her, exploring where Hermes had a few short hours before, but with more tenderness, more care. Then he attended to other places, her waist, the small scoop of her lower back, the bare skin of her shoulders, in between.

 

He drew back from a new kind of slow, deep kiss and pressed his lips to her bottom one again. "Are you okay?"

 

Hope nodded, a little breathless. "Do that thing with your tongue again."

 

She followed him a few steps backwards, breathing raggedly as he kissed along her neck, around the cravat. He wanted to untie it, but he also wanted to 'do that thing with his tongue again.' Backing her into the bed until she sat down, he peppered her neck and shoulders, jaw and ears. Resisting the urge to crawl on top of her, he sat down beside Hope, took her face in his hands and did that thing with his tongue again, sweeping hers slowly, finishing with a quick flick.

 

Hope was clasped firmly to him, her fingertips pressed hard where ever they landed. He broke away again, set to nibbling her collarbone, her earlobe. Finally, he earned the longed-after moan, a second one when he untied that neckerchief, licked a line over her scar.

 

Realizing what he'd done, Hope yelped and shoved him away. "The cut!"

 

"No, no. No, Hope, it’s a scar now, a glimmering white line is all." Jefferson took her hand, ran her fingers over the slightly raised strip. "My world, different rules. Wounds heal. Even magical wounds."

 

He leaned back down and kissed it again, relishing the little gasp Hope gave in return. He wanted to see the rest of her. He'd seen the undergarments, but like she'd said, that didn't show anything. He reached for the ribbons on her back that fastened her dress.

 

"Hope?"

 

"Mmm?" She hummed as he ran his lips down the side of her neck, spoke into her skin.

 

"May I take this off of you?" He tugged at the back of the bodice to make clear.

 

Her skin flared up pink and hot under him but she nodded. "You may, but you've already seen all that."

 

"May I take 'all that' off as well?" He tugged free the ribbon, easily pushed the dress off her shoulders, down her arms and her chest.

 

Hope took the moment to lean away and look at him. He couldn't tell for sure with her face backlit by the window, but she seemed to be frowning at him. "Are you tempting this future behind me?"

 

Jefferson looked over her shoulder at the cradle, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm not scared of it now, such a little thing."

 

Hope lifted her hips as he pulled the silk of her dress all the way off. Then he could tell she was smiling.

 

"Then, be my guest, Jefferson, teach me some more things." She was shaking slightly but her voice was strong. Nervous but powered by resolve.

 

"Are you sure?" He asked, clasping her hand to keep it from shivering. "You're shaking."

 

She clasped back. "Yes, just nervous."

 

"I'll be gentle with you."

 

Hope's laugh was a little higher pitched, a little wild. "I'd appreciate it."

 

"Just tell me to stop if I'm hurting you or do anything you don't want."

 

Jefferson could feel her heartbeat pounding even where he was holding her wrist. She merely nodded and he carefully slipped off her petticoat, unfastened the first knot of her corset, pulled it loose from her chest. He made sure to be soothing, none of the groping or grasping from earlier that day, just light touches, soft caresses. He found that kissing her while his hands worked calmed her significantly, so he indulged in a slow sweet press of her lips as he finished unlacing the corset, dropped it to the floor.

 

She was left still with a surprising amount of clothing on, but Jefferson let those be for now. He explored the skin that was now free, the contours of her that he could actually feel now without the stiff fullness of her petticoat and corset. Underneath all that she was very soft, skin silky and pink where he touched. The little noises she made were a cherry on top of the touches that were their own reward. Her fingers found his buttons, his ties. He still had all of his clothes on, coat and all. He shrugged that off quickly and returned to running his hands up and town her back, along her sides.

 

Hope, however, did not seem content with the removal of simply his coat. She pulled at his necktie, loosened its knot and then tossed it aside, leaned away from him to unbutton his waistcoat. From her one practice earlier that day her nimble fingers had gotten very deft at unfastening it. Soon he was left in shirt and trousers. And boots.

 

Jefferson scoffed lightly and, after kissing her soundly and perhaps a little more roughly than intended, toed off his boots and dropped to the ground to untie hers. He wiggled her feet free, slowly pushed her slip up her leg to the top of her stockings, then pulled them off as well. With a kiss on the inside of each knee he stood up and made to loosen his trousers, acutely aware of Hope's eyes boring into him. He was already needful, knew she could see that, but he didn't expect her to reach out, to touch him with trembling fingers. Even through the leather of his trousers, stretched tight over him, he hitched into her tentative touch. Hope was breathing deeply, quickly, but she steadied herself and ran her fingers over him, more assertively this time.

 

He couldn't help it, Jefferson closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He didn't notice in time when she undid his button, untied the rest. He weakly tried to push away her hands, but she was bolder now, yanked away his trousers and left him in his shorts, which did a much less effective job of restraining his need. Hope didn't react, though he couldn't properly see her. She only sat there. He wished she would touch him again, but he knew she was just getting used to being touched, he couldn't expect this from her just yet, not with something so unfamiliar. Instead, he kicked his trousers off his ankles and sat back down on the bed with her.

 

Though hesitant just seconds before, Hope was adamant to touch him, his face, his shoulders. She even tugged on his shirt until he allowed her to pull it over his head. Snapping tight shut her eyes, she leaned up and kissed Jefferson, letting her hands do the investigating for her. Jefferson sank into her, her mouth, her touch, found himself leaning over her as she slowly fell backwards.

 

Laying on the bed, he could properly see Hope's face, flushed across the cheeks, lips red and swollen, eyes dark. She gazed at him for only an instant before closing her eyes again and gasping. Her inner thighs were sensitive, ticklish maybe. He pushed her slip up to her waist, peeled away her shorts. Hope shuddered and Jefferson stopped.

 

"No?" He asked, releasing the waistband.

 

Hope shook her head. "No. It's fine."

 

He freed her from the shorts and grazed his hand over where they'd been, up her thigh, over her hips, down the other thigh. Hope arched her back slightly, almost pushing him to touch elsewhere, but Jefferson didn't want to hurry this. It was delicate. Instead, he swung a leg over her, dragged his hand up her body until the slip was bunched at her chest, then pulled it off of her entirely. Naked below him, Hope licked her lips, cautiously laid her hands on his stomach.

 

"I'm naked," she announced, as if to fill the silence.

 

Jefferson smiled. "Yes. You are."

 

"I've never been naked in front of anyone before." She seemed to be fighting the urge to cover herself, fidgeting legs together, pinching elbows over her chest.

 

"That makes this very special then," he offered, lowering himself onto his elbows to afford her some cover. She relaxed as soon as the skin of their chests touched. "You're breath-taking, by the way," he whispered over her lips before kissing her softly.

 

Hope wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him back deeply. Jefferson had kept his hips off of her, to ease her into the contact, but with her so enthusiastically responding, he lowered them, too, resting himself between her legs. With the first touch, Hope jumped, then pressed against him with a soft moan. Jefferson fought off a groan and gently rolled his hips over her.

  
The kiss couldn't last any longer at that point. Hope threw her head back and gasped. He kissed her neck instead, nibbling when she moaned again. When she began hitching her hips up to his, Jefferson had to sit back. He wanted inside her so desperately, but she wasn't ready. Yet.

 

She whined when the contact ended. He left a kiss between her collar bones, another between her breasts.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Nowhere. Just changing some things."

 

She exhaled loudly. "Why? I was enjoying that."

 

Jefferson chuckled, "patience." Sitting back on his heels he removed his final piece of clothing and watched Hope gulp. No, she wasn't ready yet. "Not yet, my Hope," he assured her and then laid down on his side next to her, lips on her jaw, a hand between her legs.

 

He started slowly, snaking up the crease of her hip, then set his palm over her, pressed soundly until she sighed in appreciation. With one finger, he found her warmth, played up it to her button, replacing his palm with that one finger which he worked in a slow, luxuriant circle. Hope bucked beneath him immediately. Looking up from the smatterings of nips and kisses he was leaving on her chest, he found that wonderful heart-shaped mouth dropped into an 'o', so small, so petite. He leaned up to kiss it briefly, to swirl a second finger around her button as well in time with his tongue. Then he returned to her chest, continued stroking, now in tight, faster circles, as he finally, finally, took her little budded nipple in his mouth.

 

The assortment of noises she made was rewarding, but he wanted more from her, wanted to ready her. So, he sat back and focused just on her button, moving faster, a little more pressure. Hope had been pressing back, but then she tensed, her body arching. Jefferson had to touch himself, watching her keen under his hand. He groaned a little too loudly and Hope's eyes flashed open, caught sight of him. She jerked her hips and then cried out, surprise and then delight rippling over her face.

 

Jefferson rubbed her through the waves that hit her next until she was panting, loose and undone on the bed.

 

"Jefferson?" She asked weakly when he kept stroking her.

 

He only hummed. He wasn't finished yet. Not even close. Sliding to the edge of the bed, he drew her hips down with him until her legs rested on his shoulders, his knees on the ground. Then he replaced his fingers with his mouth and Hope shouted.  
 

"What are you doing?!"

 

Jefferson sat back surprised. "I'm… I'm taking care of you."

 

"With your mouth? No, thank you, sir. That is not for… that."

 

Jefferson smiled broadly. "Oh, I think you'll find it is. Please," he quirked an eyebrow at her, "will you let me show you?"

 

Hope settled herself back on the bed slowly but eventually nodded, "fine."

 

"Thank you," he said to her stomach and then buried his nose again in her blonde curls. She smelled musky and a little sweet, funnily, like tea. He tried again, then, licking a looping circle over her button. The surprise gone, Hope did not reject this time. She only keened softly. He tried a little more boldly, then cupped it in his lips, gave a little suck.

 

Fingers found his hair, Hope entwined her hands and held on. Then, he figured it was time enough to test her readiness.

 

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said and then waited until she nodded.

 

One finger, that was all. He returned to tugging and licking her while he pressed just the tip of one finger inside of her. She was ready enough and he pushed deeper up to his first knuckle, then the next, then to his hand. Hope tensed around him but didn't cry out, so he pulled out slowly and pushed back in, only an inch. Another finger. He pressed two inside of her this time, felt her give way with a soft gasp. Moving those inside of her he felt her tense again, so he eased back with his mouth. He didn't want her breaking again yet, better to save the want for him when he finally slipped inside of her.

 

After a few slow, careful strokes, he added a third, stretched her wider. He let her adjust to that for longer and then began pressing into her a little harder, a little faster. It seemed to work, she gasped or moaned a few times but rocked into his hand. She was ready.

 

Jefferson stopped pressing himself into the bed and stood away from her. "Up you get," he said and tapped her bottom.

 

Dazed and languid, Hope slowly crawled back on the bed and laid back down. Jefferson climbed between her legs, pressing them farther apart with his knees and settling over her on one hand. He dipped his fingers back inside of her a few times and then took himself in his hand, smearing himself with her.

 

Kissing her neck, her face a few times he rubbed himself against her, indulging in the way she keened for him. Then, he moved lower, pressed just inside of her. She was panting, staring at him with heavily-lidded eyes, so he pressed a little deeper, bit his lip as she opened around him. He sunk into her inch by inch, painfully slowly. When he finally dropped his hips onto hers she moaned, long and loud. He twisted inside of her, ground against that magical button as she flexed and squirmed around him. Eventually, she stopped moving erratically and began answering the soft sway of his hips. Then he pulled back some, pressed again into her center.

 

He groaned at the exquisiteness of it. Tight. She was so tight around him and arching to take him in. He fought to breathe, to keep a slow, even pace for her. But it was so difficult, especially with her thrusting against him a little faster, a little more desperately.  Her mouth was open again, her eyes shut. She was close to bursting. He locked his jaw and steeled his will, pressing deep and rocking with shallow thrusts that ground on her button over and over. She broke around him with a strangled cry, her fingertips leaving bruises on his shoulders.

 

Jefferson rocked a little harder as she loosened her grasp, pulled away a little farther. She was relaxed and open, he could let go of his reins a little. He sped up, falling into a perfect rhythm that made his head cloud over. When Hope began moving under him again his hips hitched, then jerked and he lost control with a groan. It had been fast and unexpected, his body pressing flush against hers as he spilled over.

 

* * *

Hope was glad she fought to keep her eyes open after the world crashed around her and then came right. Seeing Jefferson's face was well worth the effort. The look of pleasure and surprise that overtook him as he felt her respond again. The blue of his eyes flashing back for an instant only to be swallowed by his pupils. The way his lips dropped open, but his jaw stayed closed. She wanted to bite the lower one, but she couldn't reach. He felt amazing. At first, even though she'd told him she'd say something if he had, she'd just gritted her teeth through the pain. There was some pressure, the tightness, but it relaxed soon and then it just felt like nothing she'd ever experienced before. It felt like she didn't want him to stop, like she wanted him to delve deep inside of her and stay there but at the same time to move hard against her. It felt unreal, he felt unreal.

 

Opening her eyes also allowed her to see the whole of him. She hadn't looked before, found the nakedness of him overwhelming, but she drank it in now. He wasn't like those greasy, enormous men they'd seen that morning. He was leaner, hard still under her palm but less unsettling. He had angles and sharp edges alongside smooth slopes. She liked those, liked watching them move, feeling them slide under her hand. All that she was able to take in in the half moment it took for Jefferson to lose control at her stirring. His face flickered for a second, his mouth dropped fully open and he groaned. It was singularly rewarding, that groan. It made her butterflies erupt into whirlwinds, then fall relaxed inside of her as the world inverted.

 

His eyes were scrunched close as he fell still. He breathed like he had been suffocating moments before. Hope reached up and pushed his hair out of his face, caught his cheek as he dropped it into her palm. He was exhausted.

 

"Hope," he mumbled and then opened a weary blue eye. "I'm sorry."

 

"Whatever for, you silly man?" She ran her other hand through his hair, over his neck and shoulder.

 

He couldn't hold himself above her anymore, staggered to press his chest on hers, his elbow just barely propping him up enough to let her breathe. "For… that."

 

She stroked his back, his neck, his hair. "Oh, I wouldn't expect an apology for that. I personally quite enjoyed it."

 

Jefferson choked out a breathy laugh out and rolled his face out of her hand, buried it instead beside her ear in her hair. She continued smoothing her fingers over him, took up twirling his hair around one finger.

 

"Did you?" She finally asked tentatively. "Enjoy it, that is?"

 

He grunted in her ear. "My dear Hope, you were wonderful." Then with a weary sigh, he kissed her hair and slipped away from her, left her feeling a little empty.

 

"How are you feeling?" He asked with a little more energy as he settled onto his back.

 

Hope rolled onto her side and nuzzled up under his arm, rested her cheek on his chest. "A little sore, but scrumptiously relaxed."

 

He sighed and closed his eyes, twisting his fingers through the curling ends of her hair. "Good. Did you learn anything?"

 

She hummed for a second and drew little curlicues in his chest hair. "You scrunch your nose up at the end," she finally replied and he snorted. "And you can use one's tongue for other things beyond kissing and eating." She reached up and set her little finger in the cleft of his chin with a contented smile, "and I really like your chin dimple."


	9. A Piece of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension broken, life settles into something confoundingly close to happy. For a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is admittedly another anachronistic bit here with our special guest, but I needed it there. Pardon me my weakness.
> 
> Also, the lemon leaked into this one... oops.

If Hope had thought she was sore the night before, she was mistaken. The real soreness found her the next morning. Nevertheless, she had slept like a dead person, wrapped carefully in Jefferson's arm. Her face was stuck to his chest when the dull throbbing ache in her pelvis woke her. She felt like she'd ridden a horse for two days and somehow had sat on the saddle horn. It was pleasant anyway, she felt warm and satisfied in new ways and being held was deliciously rewarding.

 

She un-adhered her cheek from Jefferson and kissed him on the red mark her face had left. He didn't stir. He was the deepest sleeper she'd ever encountered. Sitting up felt even worse, actually just applying pressure to her pelvis was what felt worse. Once she stood from the bed she felt a little better. For all that discomfort, the sight of him lying naked on the bed made her ears burn. She chewed her lip as she looked at him and then shook her head. Another day, when sitting wasn't uncomfortable. Instead she pulled on her chemise and padded down the stairs. She needed some tea. If she could find some willow bark, if this world had it, she could ease that pain. She thought about that in the kitchen, she could swear she remembered seeing a willow in the forest or two.

 

By the time she'd tiptoed back up the stairs to get her clothing, Jefferson had felt her absence and was slowly getting out of bed.

 

"You're an early riser," he commented and kicked his shorts into his hand. "You make the sun look late."

 

"I suppose…" Hope answered absent-mindedly. She was busy collecting her clothing pieces. "Have you seen my other stocking?"

 

Jefferson handed it to her with furrowed brow. "Going somewhere?"

 

"Oh? Me? No, well, yes. I just want to walk into the forest a ways. I think I saw a willow on our way here."

 

"A… willow…"

 

Hope looked up at him with as warm a smile as she could muster. "Yes, a willow. Willow bark makes a good tea."

 

His furrow deepened. "Willow bark's for pain. I hurt you," he sighed and shut his eyes in disappointment. "I'm sorry, Hope."

 

"Well, I don't really think it could be avoided. You handled me like a china set. And I'm not hurt. I'm just sore, like I rode a horse rather hard." She smoothed the shirt he'd just pulled over his head in frustration out over the shoulders and made him look at her, thumb in his chin dimple. "See? I'm fine. Now stop moping. I don't regret an instant."

 

Jefferson relented, brow easing back to just barely gathered. He considered her as she got dressed. "Let me come with you."

 

"By all means. Do come. I'll make you tell me the names of things."

 

"You know I don't know hardly any of them."

 

"Then you'll make it up. It'll be fun."

 

He caught her by the arm as she bustled around. "Are you sure you're okay?"

 

Hope stilled and squared her shoulders. "Yes. I'm sure, silly." She scoffed when his look of disbelief didn't lessen. "Oh, look here," she took his face in her hands and then kissed him soundly, making sure to press up against the length of his body in the process, despite the small pang it caused. "There. Do you believe me?"

 

Jefferson cleared his throat. "Yes, okay, fine. I believe you."

 

"Good. Come on."

 

"I expect that to be the way that you convince me of things from now on," he glibly added behind her, pulling on his trousers as he hopped down the stairs.

 

Hope shook her head but laughed. Rambunctious man. She set out immediately, marching quickly into the trees, it took Jefferson a few seconds to realize that she'd left him. He came jogging up behind her as she was entering the nearest thicket.

 

"Forget something?" He asked.

 

"Actually, yes. I neglected to bring a paring knife," Hope jibed back, only half joking.   
 

Jefferson smirked and held one out, which she took.

 

"Thank you. Now, whatever is that great hulking tree there?"

 

"I'm of the opinion that it goes by the Giants' Pine," Jefferson answered, head tilted back to consider it. "Though a good case could be made for Mountain Oak."

 

"Mmm, those sound like fine Enchanted Forest trees," Hope said seriously. "I wonder of their properties."

 

"Well, I'd say tall and leafy. Maybe. But that's not really distinguishing."

 

"You really know nothing of plants. You were not joking. Oh, hold on," Hope knelt down at the base of a tree and pointed to a collection of stumpy large leafed plants. "These look like Purge Plants. I'll need to smell the root."

 

"A… Purge… Plant? And you're digging that up why?"

 

"Purge Plant does all sorts of good, cleans out poison, helps headaches and walking coughs. It's useful to have around." Hope created a small trowel from the knife Jefferson had brought for her and uprooted the plant.

 

"Does that smell starchy to you?" She asked and held the root in Jefferson's face.

 

He obligingly sniffed and then peered around the tendrils and soil at Hope, his face blank. "It smells like dirt, Hope. What smells _starchy?"_ He pondered and avoided another thrust.

 

"That. That smells starchy. I'm taking this. I think it's Purge Plant. I can check closer when I've washed it."

 

"I'm getting you a herbalist book at the market, as soon as you're done out here."

 

Hope grinned brightly at Jefferson who was swatting the plant away from brushing his leg. "Oh, that would be wonderful!"

 

"Mm-hmm, and will also prevent a possibly deadly guessing game."

 

They walked a stretch in comfortable silence, Jefferson kicking over toadstools, even when Hope nudged him in reprobation. "Did we make a mistake last night, Hope?" He posited towards a fly that was buzzing around his head.

 

"Do you think we made a mistake?" Hope asked back.

 

"Answering a question with a question. How productive."

 

"It stimulates individual thought," she answered smelling a delightfully sweet white flower. "Though, to that question I myself would have to answer 'no.' We're not children playing games. It did no harm. I enjoyed it. All that adds up to 'not a mistake' to my mind."

 

Jefferson kicked over another toadstool. "I agree. I just wanted to make sure you… did too."

 

"And if I didn't?"

 

"I'd… well, I hadn't gotten that far yet. I was mostly hoping that it wasn't a mistake. I suppose I'd apologize…"

 

"A good place to start."

 

"…and maybe offer to make up for it somehow."

 

Hope nodded and then shrugged. "Well, at least I've done you some good while being around. You're starting to think seriously about the consequences of your actions. Now--" She held out her hand to Jefferson's thigh to stop him kicking over yet another mushroom. "Stop acting like a child and leave those toadstools be. They may be useful, once I figure out just what sort they are."

 

Jefferson harrumphed but stopped kicking innocent fungus and found a pine cone instead. "They might also be poisonous."

 

"How long have you lived here?" Hope asked a minute later.

 

"In this house? Uh… six years, I suppose. No, maybe only five. In this forest, my whole life, though technically I lived in a village before my parents disappeared. Why?"

 

Hope paused. She didn't know he'd been orphaned. "Oh, well… I was just going to tease you for not figuring out how to live off the land, but I suppose I can't do that now."

 

He scoffed. "And just what is stopping you now that wasn't before?"

 

"Well… I didn't know you lost your parents."

 

He lifted an eyebrow, shrugged the corner of his mouth. "It's been a long time and I'm doing just fine. I don't really tell anyone that, actually, now that I think about it. I guess that makes you special." He gave her sad smile.

 

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but when did you lose them?"

 

"Oh, about ten years ago, and I'm not sure I lost them. They just left and never came back. For all I know they could be dead or living like royals in another land." Jefferson kicked his pine cone too hard, sent it shattering on a boulder.

 

"And you were left just a child? Wait… another land? Do you mean to say--"

 

"Yep, portal jumping's an inherited trade, or at least I got the hat from my father. I don't know where he got his, he would never tell me. I'm just glad he left one behind when he did go."

 

"How many did he have?"

 

"Just two. I assume his is lost like him," Jefferson grumbled. "Just two _magic_ hats… he left me with a shop full of useless, shoddily made normal hats, paid for in advanced, and a host of angry customers. Ten year olds are not equipped to handle disgruntled patrons. I had to run."

 

"I'm sorry," Hope offered quietly.

 

"I'm not. I'm better off. They were unreliable parents anyway, running off to other worlds and leaving me with the old seamstress up the way. She taught me millinery better than my father." Jefferson scoffed again and shook his head. "Anyway… so what was this about teasing me for my lack of knowledge? I feel like that was the direction we were originally heading."

 

Hope reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. He didn't need to be left alone again. No wonder he'd been hesitant to open up at all, to admit anything. "You turned out very well. Considering."

 

He cut his eyes at her.

 

"I do suppose the woods are no place for hat making, but I plan on remedying this. You'll know these plants well enough to live off of them when I'm through with you." She ran her thumb over his cheek bone and then around his ear. Then she spotted one. A willow behind him about eight yards. "Oh! There! A blue willow."

 

She scampered off and began taking bark scrapings. Jefferson trudged up behind her a moment later.

 

"My mother taught me one thing about plants."

 

"Oh, yes? And what was that?" Hope asked, still scraping the inner bark into a pouch.

 

"A flower in the hair or on a hat always looks fine on a lady." He tucked a strand of hair behind Hope's ear and then threaded the stem of a lush purple flower to keep it in place. "Since you don't have your hat on, this'll have to do. It even is gold on the inside."

 

Hope stopped scraping to lean up and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, Jefferson. That was very sweet."

 

"Eh. It just looks nice in your hair."

 

"And it was sweet. Now, shall we go make some tea and head to market?"

 

* * *

Jefferson did not know how Hope drank that willow bark tea. It wasn't even close to as good as her normal cup. The sip he'd taken had nearly made him gag, but it seemed to make her feel even better than teasing him did which was all that mattered. She was much more chipper as they walked to the market.

 

"Do you reckon I can find a seamstress in town? I desperately need another corset." She was skipping like she tended to do instead of just walking, the flower he'd given her bobbing in her hair. "Oh, and perhaps a cordwainer? I only have the one pair of shoes."

 

"Whatever you need, I'm sure we can find a way to get it. Money's not an issue, at least," Jefferson replied, nodding at the innkeeper as they passed. The old man merely gazed confounded at Hope. She grinned and gave him a hopping curtsy.

 

"We need to get eggs and milk. Have you ever considered a cow, or even a goat? They keep easily when you have enough land. Then you wouldn't have to buy fresh milk every other day."

 

"Cows and goats don't do well when you're not there to milk them absolutely every day." He found answering her patiently was becoming easier. She certainly made the effort to do so with him, it was only right that he did in return.

 

"Yes, yes, of course. I keep forgetting. Not consistently in this world. Remember that, Hope. Must make arrangements for occasional and unpredictable absence." She announced this to herself sternly, as if lecturing a student. "I wonder, would bees sustain such an absence. I do love honey. Oh! And do let's remember cheese. I like your cheese here. Flour, sugar, yeast. Yes, yes, yes."

 

Jefferson hid a smile when Hope looked up from ticking things off on her fingers. He couldn't have her thinking he found her eccentricity adorable as well. Not this soon. She'd get a big head about things. Just then he remembered something. "Add salt to your mental list. We need it cure to meat. And wire. I'm nearly out."

 

Hope nodded and continued her little grocery chant all the way to market. Many of the market merchants knew Jefferson, not well, but they'd provided him with the same dozen goods for half a decade. Many of them were astounded by Hope's presence. Jefferson couldn't tell if it was here existence, there beside him, or her mannerisms that left them speechless. Probably a combination of the two: he had been serially single for all the time they'd seen him around but Hope was also an extremely odd duck to their simple-minded eyes. It worked to Jefferson's advantage. Bargaining was quicker for his goods and Hope walked all over them. Some of them he was fairly sure gave her the lowest price just to get her gone.

 

The crafts trader was the only one who seemed able to stomach her. He was a decent fellow, cleverer than most and had been traveling for years. His worldliness saved him from the bamboozling presence Hope created for the other villagers who'd never gone farther than it took to draw water.

 

All that didn't matter though once Jefferson secured the herbalist guide for Hope. She shut up immediately.

 

"How is it you can read and walk at the same time?" He asked, a little ways down the road from the market.

 

Hope sidestepped a stone and turned a page. "I multi-task."

 

Jefferson scoffed. "You're not. You can't be reading and watching your feet. Not well, at least." 

 

"And yet, I am." Hope winked at him and then scuttled up beside him to point out an illustration in the book. "See this? I need to find this. It's an elderberry. It keeps off the cough and fevers. And, it's a berry whose flower you can also use."

 

"Mmm," Jefferson nodded and shifted their parcels to one arm so he could point. "That berry? I've seen that berry on the edge of the garden."

 

Hope wiggled her shoulders in delight. "Excellent! I just have to make sure it's not… privet berries." She turned a few pages backwards and pointed to another drawing.

 

"Those look almost identical."

 

"Yes. Yes, they do," Hope said chewing her lip. "The plant itself looks different though. I'll figure it out."

 

"If you poison yourself I'm going to be extremely disappointed," Jefferson informed her.

 

"I would expect so." She thumbed through the book and then pointed to a flower Jefferson actually recognized. "So, poppies in your world cause sleeping sickness?"

 

"Well, I know their used as a knock-out powder by some folk."

 

"Hmm… very different."

 

Hope continued on in this way their entire walk home. And then the rest of the afternoon as they prepared a meal, as Jefferson sharpened the knives Hope had informed him were too dull, as she helped him cure some beef and lamb. She even read it in the bath, took the damn book to her bedroom,  and fell asleep with it. She was with it, split open and spilt with tea when he came downstairs the next morning. She mumbled over it as they ate breakfast, retreated to the garden and read it as she paced its paths.

 

"Haven't you read the whole thing by now?" Jefferson asked as Hope stole another ribbon from him to mark a page. "You've been at it for a full day straight."

 

Hope fell onto his armchair, feet over its back. "Oh, yes. I've read it through. Now I'm just memorizing it."

 

Jefferson sighed and went back to the gardening hat Old Lady Kissinger had convinced him to make for her at the produce stand. "You'll hurt your neck sitting like that."

 

"Thank you, I'm quite comfortable." She flipped over anyways and peeked her chin over the top of the chair at him. "Do you think, my dear Jefferson, that I could find all these plants in the surrounding woods?"

 

"You could certainly try, but as we've already pointedly exposed, I don't know a damned thing about the forest vegetation." He twisted the last wire into frame and slipped out the hat block. Old Lady Kissinger had a whopper of a head. "For all I know… that's not even the right book."

 

"Of course it is, silly. The young woman said it was written by her grandmother as she traversed the Queen's land."

 

"Then it was the King's land," Jefferson murmured.

 

"Was it?"

 

"Yes. The Queen married into the castle, took over when the King died. Would you hand me my shears?"

 

Hope lighted softly on the ground and handed him over the scissors she'd been using to cut her bookmarks. "I should like a history book of this realm next, I think. So much I don't know."

 

"Mmm. That's a good idea. In the meantime, that is something I can fill you in on."

 

"Yes. I like that. You'll teach me about the ways of your realms and I'll teach you plants. After I teach myself. Shall we go out to the forest tomorrow? I'd like to find what actually is growing around here so I can start using it."

 

"That sounds fine," Jefferson replied, stretching the linen.

 

Hope tittered and pranced around him, planting a kiss on the top of his head. It was the first time she'd shown any affection since the night before last. Jefferson sat up and lost the hold on the hat brim. Ignoring the wrinkles, he turned around to watch her grab an apple and stoke the hearth.

 

"Tea?"

 

She didn't look up at him but he had a feeling she felt him watching her. He turned back around and tried to fight off the buckling in the hat. "Please."

 

Hope took him up on his word, bounding onto his bed before the sun rose the next morning. She'd spent the night, again, in her own room reading that blasted book.

 

"Good morning, Jefferson! Up you get! The birds are singing, you should be listening!" She bounced around the foot of his bed a few times and then yanked at his blankets.

 

"No, Hope," he whispered, as if being quiet would induce her to do the same. "The sun's not yet risen. Neither will I."

 

She pulled the blankets off his head and to his feet anyway. "Up! We have exploring to do!"

 

"How are you awake? You were up all night reading that book!"

 

"Were you spying on me?" Her grin seemed to shine even though there was no sunlight for it to reflect.

 

"No. I was just awake, and would now like to be asleep. Later. We'll find your plants later." He rolled onto his face, but Hope still didn't leave.

 

Now she was trying to push him onto his back. "Can't! Some of these plants are only dawn bloomers. I won't know if they're them if I don't get down there before your strange sun gets too high in the sky. Up, up, up!"

 

She paused momentarily when Jefferson groaned.

 

"I made you tea…" she said sweetly, pleadingly.

 

Jefferson allowed her to roll him over. Her smile was almost worth it. "Fine."

 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She crowed and sprung around the bed as he stood from it.

 

"You have a sickening amount of energy," Jefferson told her and began pulling clothing from his drawers.

 

"I'm happy."

 

"Well, so am I, but I can't do _that_ before the sun's up. Or ever." He yanked a shirt down over his head and buttoned the sleeves.

 

"You're a different type of happy. I can see it in your eyes even if you don't act it." Hope handed him a waistcoat, then his boots. "I'll go pour your cup."

 

And quick as that she'd disappeared down the hall. She kept up that level of enthusiasm for the whole morning. It was unending. Jefferson was amazed by it. Turning in one spot, Hope added another plant to her mental map.

 

"Mulberry, mint and elm standing by the stone like a rabbit." She pointed to each tree and plant with her eyes closed. It was the fifteenth verse of this chant.

 

"You know, it might be easier if you write it down," Jefferson suggested, ducking out of the way of her blind-dance. "Maybe a map?"

 

Her brown eyes flashed open, big and excited. "Brilliant!"

 

He nodded. "Sure. It'd be better than this, anyway. Whatever this is."

 

"It's my plant chant."

 

"Right. Well, a plant _map_ would be faster. I could help. We could draw in landmarks like your rabbit rock and label the trees and bushes and such. I have a fair hand at ratio… the map would be proportionally accurate."

 

Hope grabbed him by the hands and started hopping on the spot. "That would be fantastic! Thank you!"

 

Jefferson smiled. "Yes, sure."

 

He should have known it when he volunteered his help and Hope basically rocketed into the air, but her enthusiasm about this plant map was endless and exhausting. Every waking second she spent on it. They started the next morning, to his utter dismay, again before the sun rose at the fork in the path where the forest met his house. Hope identified and made Jefferson take note of each of the trees twigs and weeds in a circle, which she marked with ribbons.

 

Each day they radiated out from there, indicating the last trees they mapped with purple ribbons at the end of their search. Hope would have continued until the sun set, but Jefferson made them finish every day before teatime. He could only stand so much and one picnicked meal a day was enough.

 

Hope cooperated happily, spent the evenings transferring Jefferson's field notes onto the vellum map he'd painted for her. When he wasn't busy doing other chores or had finished a book, he'd expand on the painted portions, shading in the biggest trees, painting patches to signify particular berry bushes or special herbs. Hope had a beautiful hand for script and would letter all the names in once the paint was dry. She called it her magic map proudly one day. When Jefferson had asked why, she'd announced that it would lead her to what she needed to work her brand of magic. That had been reason enough for both of them.

 

This continued for nearly a week before a large rain storm put a damper on Hope's mood. She'd woken Jefferson that morning with a much less rambunctious arrival into his room. She merely crawled onto his bed and tugged sadly on his hand. When he'd opened his eyes she'd pouted and informed him that it was raining. That was the first morning he was allowed to sleep past the sun rising. Hope had snoozed beside him until the steady shower's pitter patter had changed to thunderclaps. 

 

Hope was bright and sweet as ever as they had breakfast, but more subdued. Jefferson decided to let her pout out her disappointment, but himself enjoyed the day indoors. He'd been meaning to repair his hat that had been torn by the Cyclops. He soon learned that Hope's subdued demeanor wasn't disappointment, it was her form of patience. And she was patient through most of the morning. Around lunch she began bouncing again, thrumming with pent up energy. He ignored that and ate his sandwich while talking about King Leopold's great works and the birth of his daughter.

 

Jefferson gave up the history lesson after lunch when Hope started pacing the room. He could tell she wasn't paying attention. She listlessly found a book and sat down incorrectly in his chair to read it. Though, Jefferson was pretty sure she was just flipping pages. There was no way she could be reading that quickly. Foot thumping against the side of the chair, Hope finally announced what Jefferson had known for hours.

 

"I'm bored," she declared and popped up out of the chair, tossed the book on its shelf.

 

"You could help me with repairing my hat. Or I could get you started on making one of your own. I have the kits out."

 

Hope scuffed her boot over the floor and meandered around the table. "I suppose." If that wasn't a lukewarm response, he didn't know disinterest.

 

"You could tell me about Wonderland. I haven't heard past the splitting of the red and white kingdoms," Jefferson offered again, but Hope only hummed and shrugged noncommittally. "The map is dry from when I expanded it yesterday. You could letter the new labels."

 

That peaked her interest. Hope collected the map from the butchering table in the rear of the kitchen and padded back to sit across from him. She sang softly under her breath as she worked. Jefferson was able to successfully remove the torn panel of fabric, but to do only that, before Hope interrupted again.

 

"This is quite boring as well."

 

He let out an exasperated sigh and stuck the pins he'd removed back in their cushion. "How old are you?" He asked, sarcasm dripping.

 

"Eighteen."

 

Jefferson rolled his eyes. "Not my point. You're not a child. Stop acting like one. You can entertain yourself while I'm working. I know you can."

 

"I know, but I'm used to being around children. Teaching meant chasing around little ones, romping through the woods, playing games, and singing songs. Lessons can be recited outside on the ways, climbing trees, and chatting with flowers. There's no need to be still and quiet. All this sitting inside is _devastatingly_ dull. I miss children and all their energy. Maybe I could find some little ones to give lessons to here. To tutor, at least."

 

"My schedule is unpredictable," he reminded her, "if you want to travel with me, you won't exactly be around to provide reliable, regular education."

 

Hope sighed melodramatically and stalked back to his chair. A few minutes later she piped back up. "Fine."

 

"Fine," Jefferson agreed.

 

"I suppose… that I'll just have a bath, then."

 

"Okay," he fastened the last pin and stood. "I'll fetch you some water, I need to stretch my legs anyway." He trudged out into the rain and drew a few pails of water as Hope stoked the hearth up high.

 

After putting the water on to heat, he toweled off and sat back down at his work desk. Hope hummed as she watched it heat, then took up one of her strange Wonderland tunes. Besides the singing, though, she was strangely still, like she was thinking hard. Jefferson figured he knew what she was plotting but he decided to let her play it out. When he heard her kick closed the grate, he set aside his pressing cushion and ambled over to pour her bath. She wasn't near strong enough to haul all that water at once.

 

"I'll take it upstairs for you, hold on." He stepped in her way and grabbed the mitt. "Off you go."

 

But Hope shook her head, tapped his arm lightly. "No need," she simpered, batting her eyelashes. Jefferson almost spilled the water trying not to laugh. "I can just bathe right off the kitchen."

 

She put on what had to be her attempt at a come-hither gaze and nodded towards the tub in the corner. Jefferson couldn't stop himself. He set the water back over the fire and laughed quietly, watching her strut away.

 

"You're really bad at this," he informed her, stopping her cold from slipping her dress off her shoulder.

 

"Excuse me?!" Hope whipped around and threw her fists on her hips. Her glare was just not convincing, she looked more horrified.

 

"If you're trying to seduce me, it's a very weak attempt."

 

"That's rather a bold assumption you're making, sir, and pardon me. It's my very first go at it!" She yipped back in one breath.

 

"It's quite alright. I don't need to be seduced anyway. I was wondering when you were going to let me know that I could touch you again, if that was even an option anymore." Jefferson leaned back against his work chair, crossed his arms, met her eye as she gawked at him.

 

"What?"

 

"Well, you've been hiding in that book, sleeping in your bed. I just thought you weren't ready for me to… hurt you again, so you were avoiding the circumstances entirely."

 

"You didn't hurt me!" She snapped back, more confused than offended now.

 

"I couldn't know that for sure, especially when you kept deflecting any and all of my conversation attempts, including if you were feeling better, with readings from your book. For days."

 

"Oh, Jefferson, I was just excited about the book and then the map. I still am. I get caught up. But, I've been fine for days, really fine, all normal since the willow bark actually. And now I'm actively trying to… bring the topic back up again. With no subtlety apparently. Oh, this is mortifying."

 

"So, you don't mind my…"

 

"No! I thought my seducing was horribly obvious and lacking in finesse. Clearly, I don't _mind_ it." She shrugged her sleeve back onto her shoulder and then sagged in defeat. "Oh, how in the world do I move on from this?"

 

"I think taking your clothes off is a good start. Or really all that you need. I can pick it up from there. Or, you know, maybe I should go ahead and do that too for you, to avoid any more heavy-handed eye-batting."

 

Jefferson stepped towards her, grinning devilishly at his teasing, but Hope did not see the humor in it. She threw the water pail at his head. He ducked it but couldn't dodge the her shoe in time. It hit him in the shoulder.

 

"Ow! I was just kidding, Hope!"

 

He ducked the other boot.

 

"Not grinning like that you weren't. Smugness is not an endearing quality."

 

"Aw, come now. Like you're one to talk--oof!" He took a hair pin in the eye.

 

"Are you--" Hope stepped forward quickly, her eyes wide, then stomped back into place when Jefferson looked up grinning through his watering eye. "Oh, you're fine." She crossed her arms and glowered at him.

 

"Goodness, Hope. I'm just enjoying knowing about one thing that you don't. Can't I have this?"

 

"You can. Absolutely, you can, but you can have it without being a self-satisfied twit," she snapped back, looking at his feet and then reaching to hastily untie her corset.

 

"Oh. Name-calling. You must know this isn't your strongest line of argument, Hope. Not your best form."

 

She scowled up at him and continued to create a horrible knot in her corset. Her fury was formidable, but her frazzledness made it less so and Jefferson finally relented in his teasing when she reached a point of adorable frustration.

 

He stepped towards her again and reached for the knot. "Here, let me help--"

 

Hope slapped his hand away. "Oh no, don't you touch me! No helping! I can do it myself!"

 

Jefferson rubbed his hand and backed away. "Fine. You do that, but I could help. This misdirected anger isn't helping. It's strange: I didn't ever peg you for being a poor sport. Like I said, I was just teasing, which you should understand as you're basically fluent in it as a second tongue."

 

She looked up from the now-bigger knot she'd made and paused to shake her finger at him. "No. You were… you were… you're maddening, that's what! Maddening! And I'm not a poor sport. I'm vindictive."

 

He burst into laughter and staggered over to the fire to tote the water to the tub. "Fair enough. Well, there. Have your retaliatory bath. I'll be over here suffering from your wrath at my workbench. Yearning from afar. Just let me know if you want me to cut you out of that corset."

 

"I will not!" She huffed as Jefferson marched back to his hat mending.

 

Exactly eight minutes later, after a period of complete silence interrupted only by scissors snipping and breathing, Hope edged into his field of vision. He ignored her. No point in inciting another row.

 

"Jefferson…" her voice small, a little sing-songy. "I fear I've created a scissor-only situation."

 

He looked up at her apologetic grin and chuckled. "Yes, it's a true Gordian knot. Come here," he pulled her closer to him gently by the waist. "Don't worry, I'll find you a new ribbon."

 

They were both quiet as he worked the tip of his shears into the center of the knot and snipped. It unraveled instantly in his fingers and  he pulled the remains of the ribbon from its eyelets.

 

Hope took it from him and ran it through her fingers. "Thank you. So… yes, I was a little embarrassed at my ineptitude earlier and was sensitive. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

 

"I wasn't bothered."

 

"Oh, I know," she rolled her eyes, but then took his scissors from his hand gingerly, set them down behind her.

 

Jefferson kicked his chair away from the bench and patted his lap. "Your baths going to go cold," he warned.

 

"No matter. It was only a ruse anyway."

 

* * *

From the moment she'd gotten that herbalist guide, Hope's brain had been in overdrive. There had been so many things she needed to learn, to find. It was all she could think about. She'd completely forgotten that she'd just done something incredibly meaningful and consequence-laden with Jefferson, for which she felt extremely bad as she stood in front of that bath tub. She hadn't talked to him about it, hadn't talked with him about hardly anything except her project. Hadn't really thought about him except how he could help her until she found herself bored and, with her mind free again, realized she was a little frustrated, so to speak. Even then, she'd only been thinking about him in terms of what he could do for her. So, she'd already felt guilty when he called her out.

 

She'd been rather selfish and inconsiderate, exactly what she'd scolded him about. And then, on top of being humiliated at herself for being clumsy in her, again selfish, endeavor to entice him, Jefferson had lectured her with her own favorite method. The whole situation had been too upsetting and she'd lost her head. Mostly she was just mad at herself and couldn't admit it. But Jefferson was easy-going, took it in stride.

 

"You really weren't bothered?" She asked him, swinging a leg over his lap.

 

"Not at all. I was just glad you remembered I was here even though I'm not green and leafy."

 

Hope ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his forehead. "Oh, Jefferson, I'm so ashamed, and sorry. I just… I got a little obsessed. I lost my head a bit. I was being selfish, too. I'm sorry."

 

"Stop apologizing." He began unthreading the rest of her corset. "After ten years of living for no one but myself I can't judge you for getting zealous about something and forgetting others. I once spent two whole days making a hat even though I had already paid--well, maybe I shouldn't share that."

 

Hope pursed her lips and shook her head. "Maybe not. I think I'm better off not knowing what all you've paid for."

 

Jefferson scrunched his face up in a humorless smile. "Probably. Hey, remember when you were the one with your foot in your mouth? Well, things are back to normal now."

 

Hope laughed. "I'm not jealous, how else would you have found out what you've been showing me. One must learn oneself first to teach another."

 

"Oh, well, I'm glad you see it that way. I think you'll like this one," he finally ripped away her corset and tossed it to the floor. "It's called the Backwards Queen."

 

"Backwards Queen?" Hope wondered aloud and then closed her eyes. Jefferson's mouth felt better than it looked. At that moment it was doing one of her favorite things to one of her favorite spots, her earlobe.

 

"Mm-hmm. Straddling instead of sitting forward on her throne," he explained and worked his hands through her hair, pulling her head back and bearing her neck and chest. "But still a queen, so treated with great care and not required to work."

 

Hope raised her eyebrows in fascination. Jefferson was more playful this time, treating her less like he was going to break her, more like this was supposed to be enjoyable for them both. She liked it. She also liked what his hands were doing, sliding up under her petticoat, hitching it and her chemise up to her hips.

 

"You wear far too much clothing," he rumbled into her ear and then leaned away to look down at their laps. "Where's it end?"

 

Hope snorted, not caring that it was unflattering. "I thought you were the experienced one here?"

 

"I am but you're wearing fantastical foreign underclothes. Are your shorts pinned up?"

 

Hope reached down and untucked her undershorts from the waist of her petticoat. "No. I think things just got bunched up there."

 

"Oh, better." Jefferson grinned sheepishly as he lifted her hips and then picked her up wholly off of him. "Alright, just… let's just have off with those, yes?"

  
Hope kicked them off and then straddled his lap again with her skirts up around her waist. As Jefferson hugged her hips closer to his own she hummed her appreciation, of his hands cupping her bottom, of the warmth and solidness of him against her center.

 

"An enormous improvement." He held her pelvis to him, acquainting himself thoroughly with the way his hands could hold her there.

 

Hope nodded her agreement, seconded it by kissing him, running her hands over everything she could reach. That was when she decided he had far too much clothing on himself as delightful as he looked in those leather trousers, as exquisite as was his waist coat, he would look feel better without them. She broke away from him and started unbuttoning the latter, nudging him off when he started to get in her way.

 

"Off," she commanded tugging at the waistcoat and Jefferson held still enough for her to remove it. He wasn't completely still, however, he could still use his hands, which he worked around from her back and ran up her stomach, caught her breasts and began teasing them lightly with his thumbs.

 

Breaking to remove the vest, he returned to them immediately, pulling down her slip, ripping it a little, and fondling her breasts to take them in his mouth. Hope sighed deeply and leaned backwards to let him continue. Supporting her with just one hand Jefferson continued with this adding his teeth gently and then, eventually, not so gently. It made Hope squeak a little.

 

"Are you alright?" He asked looking up.

 

Looking at him, Hope decided she didn't want to do anything with him in the dark ever again. He was far too stunning to hide away from the light. Hair ruffled from her hands, lips blushed from her mouth and breasts, eyes bright and yet dark. She let out a tiny growl and nodded, pulling herself back to him, crushing her mouth into his. Not like her first, novice kiss with teeth bumping lip. She'd figured out how to use both of those things properly since then.

 

Jefferson groaned in turn and kissed her back, doing that thing with his tongue she liked so much, and hugging him tight to her. So tight it almost hurt. He was stronger than he'd let on, could hold her there even if she wanted to get away, which she didn't. For some reason, the thought, instead of scaring her like it should have, made her hold on to him tighter as well. She raked her nails up the nape of his neck, through the short hair up into his thicker tousled tufts, held on close to his scalp. His hand went back to work as well. Slipped around her waist, snaked in between them, prodded her hip, pressed against that most exciting point.

 

Hope moaned into his mouth and then reached for his shirt. She wanted to see him when he touched her like that, in the light, see the parts moving under his skin, memorize their shadows. With a few more tugs she got it up his chest, disentangled herself from him to pull it off entirely. She was not disappointed. In the daylight, weak though it was shining through the rain, she could fully appreciate the artistry of his body. Never having seen it up close made Hope's wonder for the male body all the more absolute. Feeling it only redoubled that wonder.

 

"What is it?" Jefferson asked in breathless words, following Hope's gaze down to his stomach where she was tracing the path of hair broken between chest and navel, picking up there and traveling lower.   
 

She liked the way his middle rose and fell under her fingers, tightened with each exhalation.

 

"Nothing. I'm admiring," she explained and then pressed her palms over his chest, felt his heart, and slipped up over and down his shoulders, the slope down from his neck, the end of his collar bones, the rounded corners leading to his arms. He moved his hands up to her back and neck and Hope smiled as she felt his arm tighten to hold her.

 

How could she have fretted over plants for six days with this only a few feet away? She decided that she was a silly woman and then dragged her fingers back down his stomach, to the place where the line of hair disappeared under leather. He stopped moving and looked down as Hope began to unfasten his trousers. The glimmer to his eyes made her certain he liked watching her touch him in this way. That made her feel bold. When she did loosen the leather, instead of leaning back to give him space, she reached inside, took him in her hand and relished the deep moan that answered her boldness.

 

He lurched under her hand, even through his undershorts and she peeled those away as well. She'd watched him handle himself, been surprised by how the sight made her stomach melt into liquid heat. She did similarly, took her grasp and stroked in full. Jefferson closed his eyes and dropped his mouth open, let his head fall back as his hips jerked toward her. Sitting atop him, she couldn't help but enjoy the whole procedure, bumping against herself in the process until she found she could both stroke and rub. When she set her other hand on his shoulder for support Jefferson opened his eyes, locked them with hers for a heated moment and then turned them down to watch her work. Hope contented herself with following the shadows of his torso, of his arms as he held her secured on his lap.

 

When his groans and growls grew unintelligible and then to strangled words, he stopped her. Kissed her hand and then her mouth. With his tongue making her gasp, he surprised her by reaching inside, slipping in two fingers as she rocked hip to hip.

 

"Oh, Hope," Jefferson muttered against her cheek. He leaned away from her and took her firmly by the hips, lifting her from his legs.

 

Gasping a little, Hope caught herself on his shoulders and then balanced herself in his hands. He lowered her slowly, sliding her hips down his stomach until she tapped against him. A small nudge and he pushed into her. Even more slowly he dropped her onto him, around him. She noticed how thick his eyelashes were in that moment as she stared in inexplicable pleasure into his face. He was biting his lip, a look between pain and surprise folding his brow.

 

She counted twelve seconds before Jefferson allowed himself to move again. It was a short little flinch up into her, his eyes rolling in relief. Hope jerked her hips into it in search of the shock of their pelvises meeting. She earned a fuller thrust, Jefferson's hips lifting them both from the chair briefly and Hope was set to bouncing atop his lap with fervor. It was a quicker more fervent pace they fell into this time and Hope had to fight to keep her mind clear. Shortly, however, she found she couldn't and instead leaned into it, clinging to Jefferson's shoulders and neck, moaning into his ear and letting his hands guide her hips.

 

Her body tensed and warmed and soon was on fire, her skin bursting to leap from her body, her insides swirling and condensing until everything she felt focused between her legs. Jefferson's fingertips in her bottom and thighs only intensified that point's strength, his lips against her neck and shoulder, until it was like her center of gravity and everything was pulled into it. With a cry it burst and rippled out, washing over her rigid body and pooling in her limbs until they loosened again. When she opened her eyes, Jefferson was grinning at her, a hand on her back, the other lifting her hips from his and setting them back down slowly. At some pint she'd fallen backwards, or arched her back, but he'd caught her.

 

"That was louder than last time," he informed her as she caught her breath.

 

Hope caught behind his neck to pull herself upright. "That was better than last time. Somehow stronger."

 

Jefferson hummed and kissed her, nipped her lip and then nuzzled her away to get at her jaw, her neck, her breasts. He tarried there for some time, causing Hope to lean back again and hold on for dear life by his shoulders. She was miraculously warming again from the center out with Jefferson's breaths coming in grunts from her bosom, his hips rutting harder and faster up into her. Sinking her nails into the hard flesh over his shoulder blade, she was just about to let out an indulgent, throaty sigh of his name when a knock at the door made her gasp for fear.

 

Jefferson jumped as well at the knock, though it wasn't really a knock. It was a series of pounds. Nevertheless, despite stuttering in his pace, he didn't stop or still. The pounds fell on the door again, but he kept pressing into her with jaw set.

 

"You've got to be kidding," Hope hissed, smiling out of shock at Jefferson and laughing off the jitters, when they knocked for a third time.

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, looking irritated and shouted, "go away," before returning to bury his face in her breasts.

 

"Open up by order of the Queen, Hatter," came back the voice of the source of the pounding.

 

Jefferson froze, his eyes wide and suddenly blue again. He sighed and sat away from Hope, weariness drawing together his features, making him look somehow older.

 

"I'll make this up to you," he promised into Hope's ear and then lifted her hips off his lap and off of him. Hope couldn't help but gasp at the sudden absence. He frowned his understanding and handed her his coat before walking to the door still fastening his trousers and pulling on his shirt.

 

He turned and made sure Hope was covered, tucked safely in his coat, before opening the door. Jefferson stood in front of the open doorway for a second, tilted his head to the side and then finally stepped out of the way.

 

"The Queen's gotten herself a new errand boy, eh?" He waved the silhouette inside. "I thought you were a huntsman."

 

If this man had ever been a huntsman he didn't look the part anymore. Even Hope, mostly blind to the ways of this land, recognized the guardsman's armor and helmet. The Queen's man shrugged one shoulder at Jefferson and then looked around the sitting room. He stopped with a start as he found Hope, bowed his head slightly.

 

"Miss."

 

Hope nodded back but pulled Jefferson's coat tighter around herself. Despite the fact that he almost immediately averted his eyes from her she felt exposed. Jefferson caught the movement from the corner of his eye and stepped between them.

 

"What has she told you to fetch from me?"

 

"It's more along the lines of what she's sent me to tell you to fetch," the guardsman responded quietly, pulling out a roll of parchment.

 

Jefferson accepted it, took one look at it and then held it back out with a shake of his head. "She knows that I can't breathe underwater, doesn't she?"

 

The guardsman looked at the parchment but didn't take it back. "I only know what she's commanded me to do. You're to fetch that." He sounded weary.

 

"It's impossible. Like I said, I can't breathe underwater." Jefferson dropped his shoulders with finality and rolled up the parchment. "She'll have to get the…" he unrolled it again to read something off, "the--oh, lovely--the heart of the purest creature from somewhere else. Besides, I don't practice dark magic. No heart ripping in the hat."

 

"The Queen said you'd respond this way." The guardsman sighed and reached around for a leather satchel. A glass vial he pulled out of it. "This is a potion. She said it would allow you to make the trip. As for the heart, she instructed me to tell you that it's a metaphor. She's looking for a pearl. About the size of your head. Made by the light oyster."

 

Jefferson took the vial with a huff.

 

"She'll pay you well. Said she'd even forgive your…" the guardsman looked back at Hope then lowered his voice, "illegal smuggling into her realm." He held Jefferson's eye for a moment and Jefferson stepped away, his head pulled back in shock.

 

"She got that mirror she wanted, didn't she?"

 

The guardsman nodded solemnly. "Don't make me come back out here, Hatter. I don't want to be that huntsman."

 

"Fine," Jefferson answered, his voice shaking. Hope couldn't tell with what, fear, rage, shock. "I'll bring it straight to her."

 

"Sorry, Hatter, I'm to wait here until you return." The guardsman hooked this thumbs into his belt, tilted his head with clear remorse.

 

"Fine." It was definitely rage now. Jefferson clenched the parchment and vial hard in his fists and then marched back to Hope, holding out his hand to her. "Come on, Hope--"

 

"Again, I'm sorry, Hatter. But she's to stay with me. To make sure you come back."

 

Jefferson opened and closed his mouth a few times, fuming but speechless. Finally, he slammed his hands onto his workbench, making Hope jumped. His fury melted off instantly and he hooked his arm around her shoulders.

 

"Fine. Could you… at least give us a moment? This is rather unexpected."

 

The guardsman nodded and then turned away from them. Jefferson knelt down immediately beside her, his face full of urgency.

 

"I'm sorry, Hope. I have to do this. The Queen… the Queen is a formidable enemy and I do not have the most _unsullied_ past with her. You understand, I know. You have to stay with the Huntsman. From what I hear, he's an honorable man, you'll be safe. I'll return as soon as I can." He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, then her mouth and finally the spot below her ear.

 

"We'll finish this when I get back," he whispered and then leaned back with a wink.

 

Hope tried to smile back, but she was frightened. She hadn't seen Jefferson actually scared of anything yet. Wary, yes, he'd given Hermes and Medea a wide berth, followed her warnings about the Queen in Wonderland, but never scared. Not even when that one-eyed giant had attacked them. Then, he'd been filled with some kind of manic brazenness. But he was scared of this Queen.

 

"Okay. Be careful," she said, wishing she sounded less like she was whimpering. He squeezed her hand and grinned, his best jaunty half-smile.

 

"Since when am I careful?"

 

"That's what I mean," she mumbled after him as he sprinted towards the cellar.


	10. An Ocean Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A solo jump into a new world puts Jefferson into a sticky situation. Meanwhile, Hope tiptoes around the Huntsman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's another chapter that's external-legend-heavy. If you're not into it, I understand, but you would benefit from reading after the second-to-last page break so you're up-to-date for the next chapter. That is, if I haven't scared you off already...

Jefferson stood glaring at the aquamarine, undulating doorway in front of him. There was a reason he'd never ventured through the door to Atlantis, besides not being himself aquatic. The Atlantians were notoriously xenophobic. Probably because they didn't know that other worlds existed, that people lived above land, breathed air beyond their underwater city. Those had just been whispers though. No one in living memory had traveled to Atlantis. The closest they got were whispers from the mermaids about the goings on there, ocean rumors.

 

He grumbled and thumbed the stopper out of Regina's underwater potion. He had no idea what he was stepping into, just going in blind and Hope's life depended on it. She'd hear about this from him, Regina would. He didn't care if she pulled out his heart. No. He did, but he was livid. His work was a voluntary service, never before had he portal-jumped by coercion. This was a new low.

 

Considering the potion, the way it smelled like salt and seaweed, Jefferson prayed that it wasn't just poison. He wouldn't put it past Regina. She liked poison as much as the next evil queen. He hoped she hadn't figured out what he did to her those few years ago.

 

Then, with a grimace, he tossed back the potion and jumped through the door.

 

* * *

 

Hope didn't really know what to do with herself. The Huntsman stood in the corner of the room, by the front door, not looking at her. She appreciated his discretion, but it was equally strange standing alone in a room with a person she didn't know at all who hardly acknowledged her existence. The silence was suffocating her. She wanted to yell at him or cry, terrified as she was for Jefferson. Instead, she calmly stood, buttoned his jacket over herself and walked to the cabinets.

 

"At times like these I feel the best recourse is a cup of tea," she announced as confidently as she could. "Might I interest you, Huntsman?"

 

He looked up at her, bobbed his head. "Thank you, miss."

 

"My name's Hope, by the way. And his is Jefferson." She chanced a glance at him while setting her kettle on. He was staring at the floor. "And your name is…?"

 

"Huntsman," he answered immediately.

 

"No, that's your profession. Surely you have a real name, a name your mother gave you."

 

"The Queen calls me Huntsman, that is the only name I need."

 

Hope recoiled at that. She didn't like the deadness to his voice, the rehearsed sound of the words. She needed to find out more about this Queen when Jefferson returned. Maybe move out of her realm. Quickly.

 

* * *

 

 

The potion wasn't poison. It tasted horrible and made his lungs burn, but Jefferson didn't die or drown stepping into the warm, turquoise water that greeted him in Atlantis. The first thing he noticed was the way everything shimmered. It was going to be impossible to find just one source of light in this land. Luckily, unlike Wonderland, everything was labeled clearly in Atlantis. They were picture signs but he could distinguish 'oyster beds' from 'shark stables' and 'the royal palace' pretty easily. He headed for the oyster beds.

 

The potion may have allowed him to breathe underwater, but it did not make _moving_ underwater any easier. It took a frustratingly long time to paddle into sight of the 'oyster beds'. Turtles were passing him by, crabs. He needed to learn how to swim better.

 

Turned out, the oyster beds weren't the kind he was familiar with.

 

The oysters in Atlantis were bigger than carriages and a symphony of colors. There were also several thousand of them. He floated high above their sprawling rows and cursed. This was going to take longer than he wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

Hope drank her tea in silence, the Huntsman accepted but hardly touched his. Something was wrong with him. Hope could feel it. Beyond that, he didn't look the part, not like the lackey of a frightful ruler. He had a kind face, looked sunken under all that armor. She wondered who he really was, who his family was, how he came to be in this situation.

 

"You don't want to be here, do you?" She asked finally.

 

The Huntsman looked up at her with baleful eyes. His words jarred with that look. "I live to serve the Queen. I do my duty gladly."

 

It made Hope cringe. She had to turn around to hide her shiver. There was definitely something wrong with this man. The enchantment basically screamed out to her every time he moved, spoke. Hope decided he seemed like he was two people at once. That there was something discordant in the mix. Whatever had happened to this man, she hoped it could be undone for his sake, that it could be avoided for others. Especially Jefferson.

 

Her stomach dropped. This was probably what had made him so terrified. This was the Queen's doing, no doubt about it.

 

* * *

 

 

Seven straight minutes of cursing and floundering above the oysters had not gotten Jefferson anywhere. There were at least a hundred giant shells that glowed as if they were made of light. He had no idea where to start, if even the title 'light oyster' was literal or another metaphor. Then there was the fact that many of the shells were closed tight. There was no possible way that he could pry open an oyster that was literally three times his size.

 

"I'm never going to get this pearl," he thought with spite. That reverberated through him. What would happen if he didn't get the pearl? What would the Huntsman do with Hope? Jefferson had heard the rumors about the search for Snow White, the reward offered for her heart. He hoped the Huntsman hadn't earned his new position by cutting out hearts. That shocked him into action.

 

He kicked down to the nearest shining shell and began searching.

 

The first oyster he investigated was not, in fact, made entirely of light. It was made of shell that it had grown itself, it informed Jefferson when he had muttered his discovery aloud. That had startled him. Wonderland was not the only place where things that shouldn't talk did. The oyster then informed him that he was in the star beds. If he wanted to find the great light oyster he would have to head east to the dawn beds.

 

That was helpful. Jefferson thanked the oyster as well as he could underwater and then kicked away to his left. At least he thought that was east.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, you and Jefferson don't know each other?" Hope had finished her tea and then an additional cup out of nervousness. The Huntsman had still only politely sipped at his.

 

"No."

 

"But you both know the Queen, or rather the Queen knows you."

 

"Correct."

 

"Are… you a part of her court?"

 

"The Queen doesn't hold court."

 

"So, she knows of you from… your work?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And Jefferson for his?"

 

He met her eye and nodded. "I would assume so."

 

"But you serve her."

 

"I do. Gladly."

 

"Jefferson doesn't."

 

Hope held her breath as he weighed his words, or at least appeared to decide on his answer.

 

"Only so much as he is a subject under her dominion."

 

"And you were once only… a subject under her dominion."

 

"I was."

 

"Until she… called you to serve her personally?"

 

"Something like that, yes."

 

"So, feasibly, the same could happen to Jefferson, to anyone living in her land?"

 

His eyes were blue. She hadn't noticed that. Blue like Jefferson's, but not as bright. There was less life there. "Indeed, it could should the Queen wish it."

 

Hope stood abruptly and he rose as well. "Pardon me, I have to excuse myself."

 

She ran up the stairs and carefully shut the door to her room behind her. It was distasteful to lose one's head in front of a perfect stranger.

 

* * *

 

 

Without the sun it was a little bit -- just a touch -- more difficult to head east. Jefferson had to swim down and ask for directions eventually. Not all the oysters were as amiable as that first one he'd met, though, as he found. He also discovered knocking on closed shells was not an effective method of coaxing them open. He nearly died once when a shiny blue oyster snapped out at him. At least then he knew that they could move.

 

Finally, however, he found his way to the dawn beds. They were littered with shining oysters, pink and gold and orange all shimmering row by row. Then, in the center he saw what unquestionably had to be the light oyster. The others had shimmered and shone, but this literally glowed. Great bright rays of light emanated from it and bounced off all the others, creating the illusion that they too were shining.

 

He was a little thunderstruck by it. Part of him wished Hope were there to see it. She would have been in a tizzy over it. He floated, staring at it for a few moments before remembering that he was probably on a tight schedule. Hope's life may hang in the balance. And there was no telling when that potion's effects would wear off. He could drown staring idiotically at this oyster. So, a little more focused and a great deal more determined, he swam quickly towards the center of the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

The Huntsman was in the exact same place when Hope crept quietly back downstairs. She hadn't cried or anything, she'd just needed a moment to panic in silence about the possibility that whatever happened to this poor, probably originally interesting and gentle man could happen to her Jefferson. She liked the life behind his eyes, the cheekiness that made him so infuriating at times.

 

With all of her soul, Hope wanted to ask this man what had happened to him, but she had a feeling, a heavy, paralyzing feeling that what had happened to him would impair him from explaining, would resent being asked about. She didn't want to incite that.

 

Instead she worked on her map, lettering the names of trees at a snail's pace. She had to keep meticulously slow, her hands were shaking so badly.

 

"What world are you from?" The Huntsman asked out of the blue, this time sounding a little less monotonous.

 

"Well, not this one, which I fear is far too obvious. The locals find me eccentric." Hope giggled nervously and then realized she hadn't actually answered his question. "Oh, a place called Wonderland. Jefferson rescued me from some rather… unfortunate circumstances."

 

"Wonderland? I don't know of this world. What circumstances?"

 

Hope didn't want to answer this question. It seemed a dangerous thing to reveal. "Well, suffice it to say that I was a bit of refugee and Jefferson allowed me not to be any longer."

 

"I see," the Huntsman responded and actually sounded like he did see. "I fear, miss, that you have been rescued only to be in need of saving again. This realm is not an easy one to survive in. At least…" he paused, seeming to struggle with what he was going to say, "at least in the Queen's domain. You should consider relocating."

 

He finished quickly and threw back his entire cup of tea in one gulp. "Trust me."

 

* * *

 

 

The light that gave this excruciatingly special oyster its name was literal. Jefferson was nigh on blind by the time he reached it. Luckily, however, the light was what constituted the shell of the oyster as well, so stealing away its luminescent pearl was easy. It was larger than his head but so delicate a mixture of light and mineral that he could swim quickly with it cradled to his chest.

 

He headed straight for the portal and, for a brief moment, actually believed this treacherous trip would go off without a hitch. Then the Atlantians found him. As it turned out, stealing their source of light, their primary source of all light for the realm, drew their attention rather quickly. He took a harpoon through the calf as he fell through the portal.

 

* * *

 

 

"Did you feel that?" Hope jumped up as a small disturbance in the air reverberated around her. It felt like the opening of the hat's vortex. Or its shutting. She couldn't tell.

 

The Huntsman shook his head at her but stood. "Do not run, miss. I don't want to have to stop you."  
 

"I'm not running away!" She had a horrible feeling in her gut. It had been too long. She needed to check on the hat. "I'm checking to see if Jefferson's back."

 

She waved for him to follow and then scampered down the stairs into the cellar. The vortex was raging but nothing was happening. It must have opened just then. But why wasn't Jefferson there?

 

"What is it?" The Huntsman asked above her, on the stairs.

 

"I think something's wrong."

 

* * *

 

Jefferson couldn't tell if he was vomiting water, the potion or blood, but it wasn't pleasant. Maybe all of the above. It was ridiculous. He'd made it back into the hat room but he couldn't move. Part of him was suffocating a little from the potion's effects which had not yet worn off, the other part was reeling from the pain in his leg. He didn't know yet if he could stand on it, but he couldn't get his wind enough to even try.

 

"Jefferson!?" It was faint, but he was sure he heard it. Hope's voice floating on the air. "Jefferson, are you alright?"

 

He stole the biggest breath he could muster and called back. "I'm stuck!"

 

"Stuck?" Even from just her muffled voice, Jefferson could still see the comical look on Hope's face. Her head tilted to the side, eyes big, lips just barely parted.

 

"In the hat room!" He bellowed back, his lungs working a little better.

 

"What can I do?!"

 

"Nothing!" He was almost moved to his feet by the sheer terror alone of her stepping into the vortex. "One in, one out!"

 

"Why are you stuck? Are you hurt?"

 

He didn't want to scare her, she might jump in anyway. "No. Just… a little encumbered."

 

Jefferson could fully breath now, had lost the urge to vomit. He decided to try his leg. It was bad, but he could hop. So hop he did until he came spilling out into Hope's arms.

 

"A little encumbered?" She half-sobbed, gaping at the harpoon through his calf, at the blood trickling around it. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

 

"Not funny?" He asked weakly, his head swimming from the pain.

 

"No, not funny at all, you silly man." Hope cradled his head to her chest, slicked back his hair as she hobbled over with him to the stairs. "Completely inappropriate," she whimpered.

 

Jefferson dragged his leg and sat in between Hope's legs, enmeshed in her arms as she fretted. She was doing absolutely everything she could except actually helping him with the wound. She seemed petrified by it. He lolled his head back on her shoulder, looking for the Huntsman, found him.

 

"Here's the Queen's damned heart. I expect exorbitant payment, maybe a new leg." He held it out, but only for an instant. Blood loss made him set it on the ground instead.

 

The Huntsman seemed appalled. "They harpooned you?"

 

"Sacred light ball. Steal it and they get angry."

 

He climbed down the stairs and stepped around Hope and Jefferson to collect the pearl. "Her Majesty ordered that I give you this when you returned."

 

Jefferson tried to take the pouch from him, but Hope had to instead. She set it down on the ground and pointed to the harpoon. "Payment is the last of our concerns right now. Do you see the spear sticking out of his leg?!"

 

The hysteria in her voice didn't faze the Huntsman. "Bind the leg above the harpoon. Remove it and bind tight the wound. Try Phoenix Blossom, it grows a little north of here. It should stop the bleeding and keep off the rot." He turned and began climbing the stairs, stopped abruptly. "Oh, and I am supposed to give you this as well."

 

He searched in his belt and retrieved a roll of crisp parchment, lined in gold. He handed it to Hope and then departed.

 

"What--" Jefferson was having a hard time formulating sentences. "What?"

 

Hope propped his head up and, after biting her lip, decided to show him what. "Oh, there's… the pouch is full of white stones."

 

"Diamonds," he informed her.

 

"Diamonds. And the parchment is a certificate of some kind… it… says that I am hereby a citizen of her kingdom. Lovely." She threw it aside.

 

"Safe," Jefferson sighed, letting his eyes close. He was tired.

 

Hope slapped him full on in the face. His eyes flew back open. "Do NOT leave me here, Jefferson!" She was still capable of being imposing when she was terrified. "I will get this Phoenix Blossom. But first… I have to…" the surety in her voice faded and she started shivering.

 

No. That was Jefferson shivering. Her mouth was moving, too, he just couldn't hear her.

 

* * *

 

"…Blasted to the Darkling Wood, Jefferson. I swear by all the moons I will kill you if you die on me! I will find you in the netherworld and kill you again!" It was just a leg wound. Just a great gaping hole with a metal shaft through muscle and bone. She felt like she was going to faint, but she couldn't, Jefferson's life could depend upon her.

 

Something was tickling her mind but she couldn't pay attention to it. She had to see to the tree sticking out of her lover's leg. Struggling upright, Hope laid Jefferson down on the stairs and clambered around to his left leg.

 

"Okay. Tourniquet. Remove. Bind. Phoenix Blossom." Hope chanted the Huntsman's instructions over and again as she started to follow them. It kept her mind calm. Throwing off his coat, she ripped a strip from her chemise and then another and another until she had a host of bandages and not much chemise.

 

She tied the first and largest strip tight around the top of his calf, right below the knee. Jefferson groaned, a sound that broke her heart, but she had to ignore it. She pulled its knot even tighter and then looked at the actual wound. She had no idea how to go about removing the spear and its tip. Its possibly poisoned tip.

 

Her chest felt like it was collapsing as she caught sight of the eerie purple tinge to the metal. A sniff of it confirmed something sickly sweet there besides the metallic smell of blood. She could feel herself going into shock. He was going to die. That Phoenix Bloom could do nothing and she hadn't found a plant there that milked poison from a wound, much less purged it completely from the body. Not as quickly as Jefferson needed. Not even the Purge Plant could do that.

 

She choked back a retch and then a sob and decided to try to remove the spear anyway.

 

"Jefferson?" She asked as happily as she could manage. "Can you hear me?"

 

One blue eye opened blearily, looked for her and then lost focus. He was already nearly unconscious. Hope risked wasting the time and crawled back up to his head, cradled him in her arms and kissed his cheek, then his lips.

 

It had only been a little over a week and she'd lost him. A little over a week and his life had been endangered three times, taken once. Endangered… three times…

 

Hope jerked upright, wiped her eyes. She could fix this. Panacea. The poultice she'd made from the plant Medea had given her. It was magical and it worked almost instantaneously. She had a pouch of it upstairs in her room. Panacea. She just needed to get to it without Jefferson dying first.

 

"Jefferson, my dear Jefferson, I'm sorry. I have to go get the Panacea poultice and you have to stay awake until I get back. This is going to hurt." She set him down again and slapped him hard, harder than before, harder than she thought she could, across the cheek.

  
He gasped weakly and blinked.

 

"Stay awake. I'll be right back." She sprinted up the stairs, drawing ragged breaths as she mounted the second stairs, tore through her room and left a great mess in her wake. Jefferson was blinking out of time, slowly and sluggishly when she fell down again on the ground by his leg. Apologizing beforehand, she stood on the spearhead with one foot and stomped on the shaft on the other side of his leg.

 

Jefferson whined quietly and then grew unsettlingly still. Hope worked even faster, pulling free the spear from his leg and then dumping all the poultice into the wound. She packed it in with her fingers and then wrapped a strip of bandage around it loosely. Finally breathing when she'd secured it, Hope sat back on her heels and stared.

 

"Surely it should be working by now." She fluttered her hands over Jefferson's body, waiting for him to stir, but he didn't move. She snapped and unwrapped the tourniquet and then waited again.

 

He remained still.

 

"Oh, no," she whispered, wondering if the Panacea's magic only worked in its own land. "No, no, no, no, no."

 

Jefferson's face was pale, clammy, his lips bluish. Hope grabbed his fingers and sobbed. They were cold.

 

"NO!" She shouted, standing up and straddling his stomach. She was going to pump his heart for him if she had to. Pushing down on his chest like she'd been taught when swimming with the Mock Turtle, she willed air back into his chest, for his heart to beat. She was on her third iteration, about to blow her breath into him when he groaned.

 

"JEFFERSON!" She hopped off of him, knelt by his head to feel for breath. Sure enough, he was breathing. She kissed him, forgetting that he needed to focus on getting air in and out. Started crying in relief.

 

"Did you jump on my chest?" He asked in a gruff whisper a few minutes of weeping, on her part, later.

 

"I… I… I… pumped your heart. Sort of." She sat up and dried her eyes, ran her fingers over his face, his no longer blue lips, his warming fingers. "No, no. Don't try to sit up yet. Rest. You were just practically dead."

 

Jefferson allowed her to push him onto his back again. "What happened?"

 

"The spear tip was poisoned, but I remembered Medea's Panacea poultice. It saved you."

 

"You saved me." His eyes were still glassy but clearing as he reached up to wipe away the new stream of tears falling from Hope's face.

 

"Do not do that to me ever again, Jefferson. Do you hear me?"

 

He still managed to smile, after all that. "How many times do you think I'll need to hear that before I listen?"

 

"Hopefully not one too many." She kept stroking his hair like the motion kept his heart beating.

 

"Hopefully not." He chuckled as she swatted him lightly. "No, I'm not leaving you again, and when you're around I'm five times more likely to survive. How many times have you saved me now? Three?"

 

"Several more if you count keeping you from making foolish decisions."

 

"Exactly. Five times more likely." Jefferson sighed and rolled his head onto her lap. "How likely is it that I can get you bring me a cup of your willow bark tea out of pity?"

 

"Extremely likely," Hope answered, kissing his forehead and standing. "Then we'll try to get you out of the cellar."


	11. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumpelstiltskin and Regina both check in on their injured asset. A confession is finally made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no shame. More lemonade at the end.

Three days passed before Jefferson was even able to put pressure on his leg. Considering that it was a miracle that he was alive, much less still had his leg, neither he nor Hope minded all that much. It had been a real ordeal getting him out of the cellar -- Hope had had to dope him on one of the hallucination-inducing toadstools she learned about from her book in order to get him up the stairs and even then she'd practically carried him through some feat of superhuman strength -- and so, Jefferson was plenty happy to stay immobile for those three days if it meant not going through that again.

 

Hope, on the other hand, didn't mind playing nurse anyway. It gave her something to do and a reason to spend all her time on Jefferson while still testing out her herbalist guide. Not to mention the fact that she nearly cried from joyful relief every time he opened his eyes. If it meant he was okay, she would have gone back to Wonderland and spent her life running from the Queen, so waiting on him hand and foot for a few days was nothing.

 

It was early, even to Hope's unexperienced mind, too early to say it out loud, but she was fairly sure that warm feeling around her heart when he looked at her, came to her mind, said her name, that that was love. It made her giddy, do silly things, say silly things. It also made her pay closer attention to him. She was observant by nature already, but with him stuck sleeping on a pallet in the sitting room, she was able to really soak him in. Her favorite thing, of all the dozen little things she noticed, was the way his hands always gave him away. When he was nervous they'd twitch, hiding something he'd clenched them, thinking he'd thread them together, thrum them when he thought he was going to be funny. The best tell, though, was when he was about to kiss her. He'd twirl them through her hair: hook a lock around his pinkie, tangle them in her curls, no matter whether it was a fleeting kiss on the forehead or a deep, thorough one that made her head swim. When he did that, twiddled with her hair, that was when Hope was the closest to letting her secret slip out.

 

He was catching the little wispy strands around her temples, swirling them into ringlets and tucking them behind her ears at the moment. Jefferson had hoisted himself into his arm chair that morning so Hope could change his bandage. After the first full night, with the Panacea poultice used up, she's begun to treat the wound with the Huntsman's prescribed Phoenix Blossom. The Panacea had cured the poison, had put back together the bone and a great deal of the muscle, but there were still two great, painful holes in Jefferson's lower leg. He hissed then as she peeled the last day's bandage away.

 

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It looks much better." Hope patted his knee and leaned over to grab her Phoenix Blossom petals. Pouring boiling water over them, she began cutting a fresh bandage as they cooled.

 

Jefferson collected another lock of hair, sighed as she laid the warm leaves on the wound. He was patient with her teasing, more patient than she could ever be, but without being able to get up and do hardly anything for himself he'd taken to sighing a lot more. He fidgeted again as Hope tucked the end of the bandage in behind his knee and rolled down his trouser leg.

 

"What's bothering you?" She finally had to ask.

 

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He caught her chin and kissed the top of her head before letting Hope stand. "Thank you."

 

"Mm-hmm." She patted his cheek fondly, noting the stubble. "You'll tell me when you're ready."

 

Jefferson turned as far as he could in his chair to watch her walk away. "Nothing's _bothering_ me," he informed her, using one of his more playful tones.

 

"Oh, yeah?" She came back and sat in the next chair to set out their tea service. "Then what's _on your mind_?"

 

"I was just thinking… you're spending a great deal of time in here, cooped up with me in the house every day. Aren't you a little stir crazy? Wouldn't you prefer to be out in the woods, working on your magic map? Why are you in here with me? I can take care of myself alone for a few hours."

 

"No, silly. I don't want to be out there without you. It's no fun."

 

"No fun? So, sitting here, changing my bandages, serving me tea and meals, helping me to the _water closet_ , all _that_ is fun?"

 

Hope grinned and handed him his teacup. "It's not about what I'm doing. I'm content just being around you. I'm glad you're alive, I think I'm still riding that horse."

 

"I'm not that good of company," Jefferson said wryly.

 

"No? Well, I'm sure I'll figure that out eventually. For now, let's pick up my history lesson. What happened after this Snow White was born? She's not the Queen is she?"

 

"No, the Queen was her step-mother--is her step-mother technically, though the King is dead." Jefferson continued throughout the rest of their tea and beyond, relating the life of Snow White and her escalating feud with the Queen.

 

"So… the Queen wanted her heart."

 

"Yes, for her collection, but rumor has it, that Huntsman that was here before, he couldn't bring himself to do it, brought an animal's heart instead, some stag he'd hunted and so the Queen, she took his heart as retribution."

 

"That's what you meant by dark magic. She's keeping living hearts."

  
"And wields control over their owners, yes. Her mother did that as well, or so she said once."

 

Hope shuddered. "That poor Huntsman."

 

"I don't envy him his fate that's for sure, but he should have known better than to cross her. He should have run as soon as he knew he couldn't kill Snow White."

 

"Run?"

 

Jefferson sat forward. "Yes, run. That's what I'll be doing when it comes to that day. I'll pack you up and we'll leave this land. I'm not losing my heart to her, or yours."

 

"You think she'd do that, really?"

 

"I know she would." He gazed into his empty cup darkly.

 

"You have a past with this Queen, don't you?"  
 

"I may have… been complicit in a deal that involved her."

 

"More than that," Hope warned, seeing his fists clench together.

 

"That victimized her. It was a plot, the imp's plot. He needed her heartbroken, I supplied the means. I--I regret it now!" Jefferson held up his hands as Hope took a big, pre-lecture breath. "I regretted it the moment I saw the true effects of crushing her happiness."

 

"She was heartbroken, and now she takes hearts. You and the Dark One made her the villainess she is. Shame on you! And that wasn't lesson enough to stop and think about what your dealings dealt?"

 

Jefferson tossed up a hand, shrugged his mouth. "I didn't have any reason to pay attention. I was younger, hadn't met you."

 

"Mm-hmm."

 

"Truly. I didn't have a family. No one showed me any kindness or respect except when they needed my hat. I… well, there were times when I was bitter enough to see the consequences and not care. The money was good and I was satisfied."

 

"Well, good for this land that I came around, got that out of your system." Hope smiled and took his teacup away from him. "Here, do you need some willow bark?"

 

"Please."

 

"And, do you know what else? I could grab a razor and shave you, if you want."

 

Jefferson pursed his lips, ran his hand over his chin. "That might be good. You have experience using a razor?"

 

"Well… I was a lady in waiting. I shaved a great many things for the Queen."

 

He raised his brow but didn't comment.

 

"I'll go get your kit."

 

Perched between his knees with a towel around his neck and his face all lathered up, Hope found yet another way to impress Jefferson.

 

"You are very good with a razor," he commented as she cleaned it off in the warm water and poised for another stroke.

 

"One doesn't want to only be decent with a razor when it's the Queen whose royal skin could be irritated or, worse, cut. I liked my head where it was."

 

"I don't know why, but this could be one of the most arousing things you've shown yourself capable of."

 

Hope quirked a brow. "Oh, really?"

 

"Dangerous and yet soothing."

 

"Keep still."

 

"Yes, ma'am." Jefferson froze with a wink as she carefully ran the edge over his cheek. Followed her with his eyes as she dipped the razor again.

 

"Oh, so domestic!"

 

The bowel of warm water went clattering to floor. Hope whirled around brandishing the blade. If there was one thing she'd grown to distrust in this land it was surprise guests.

 

"Rumpelstiltskin," Jefferson drawled, boredom oozing in his tone. "Your timing is impeccable as always."

 

"Yessss, I do seem to have interrupted a rrrrather intimate moment. Oops!" He snapped, leaving Jefferson's face un-lathered but clean shaven. "There. All fixed!"

 

"Hardly," Jefferson growled. "Why are you here?"

 

"Manners, manners, hatter. I'm here to offer my condolences on your little accident. Maybe… speed the recovery?" The imp grinned, pranced a bit at the offer.

 

"And what would you get for it?"

 

"Oh… only the assurance that you will be available should an unexpected need arise. I like to plan for contingencies, dearies."

 

Hope stepped in front of him as he advanced on Jefferson, only to have him pop up behind her and beside his leg.

 

"Touch him and I will cut you, see if that crusted skin of yours bleeds."

 

Rumpelstiltskin cackled in delight at her threat but bowed away. "Oh-ho-ho! Grown attached already, have we? On to the killing for true love part?"

 

"I've almost lost him and found a way to save him three times. I wouldn't mind doing it a fourth time."

 

"Hope," Jefferson took her hand gently. "It's fine. I'm an investment for him. He won't hurt me."

 

"No, I never waste an investment!" The imp happily slipped between the two of them and waved his hand, rolling Jefferson's pant leg up and magicking away the bandage. "Oh, looks grim. Did it hurt?"

 

He tittered when Jefferson only glared back.

 

"Well, it's nothing a little magic couldn't fix." He conjured a purple cloud around his hand, held it over Jefferson's leg. When he moved it aside, the wound was gone. "Ta da!"

 

Jefferson audibly sighed his relief.

 

"You're welcome. Now you can get back to business. Oh, and to warn you, Regina's on her way and she expects a show, so we'll play pretend." Rumpelstiltskin waved his fingers again and Jefferson's wound seemed to have reappeared, then his dressing. "Don't worry, dearie, it's just for show. It'll fade on its own. Bye-bye."

 

Hope grumbled under her breath as he disappeared. "I do not like him."

 

"He's not great company, no, but he did heal my leg." Jefferson reminded her, reaching down to feel it. "For now, though, I'm keeping up the act. He's right about the Queen."

 

"The Queen's name is Regina?"

 

"It is."

 

"Appropriate," Hope muttered to herself as she looked out the window. "Well, he was right about her coming, too. I assume that enormous black carriage is hers."

 

"Undoubtedly."

 

"How lovely."

 

* * *

 

 

Jefferson was wheeling a little from the death threat Hope had just offered Rumpelstiltskin on his behalf. She was feisty, yes. Murderous? He hadn't figured so much. It was curious, but he appreciated it. He was also worried by it. Rumpelstiltskin had found it entertaining, as was his wont. Regina would not find it so charming, in fact, she would probably resent their attachment as it was. He needed to warn Hope.

 

"Listen, she's dangerous and less prone to giggling than our last guest. Don't threaten her. Don't talk to her, in fact, if she doesn't address you. Please." He grabbed Hope by the arm to make sure she was listening.

 

"Fine. Fine, Jefferson." She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the fact that her voice was shaking. Maybe he hadn't needed to warn her. His history lesson had done that already.

 

Hope stood behind his chair, hands on his shoulders as the door flew open. She jumped a little, but Jefferson caught her hand with his own.

 

"Well, well, Jefferson. My Huntsman had said you would be laid up. I didn't think he meant literally. Must have been quite the harpoon." Regina was in a mood, just not one of her murderous ones. She even gave them one of her least malicious smiles. "Are you healing nicely, being waited on hand and foot by this little darling?"

 

He could feel Hope stiffen as the Queen paced around her, looked her over. "What's your name, dear?"

 

"Hope." It was the meekest little squeak. Regina chuckled in delight.

 

"Hope. I love it. Just what our disillusioned hatter needed. Rumpel wasn't lying, though, when he said she'd turned you domestic, Jefferson. I was beginning to worry you'd give up your travels. It would be a shame to lose so useful a subject. But… you proved that an empty concern. Hope is a stirring motivator."

 

Jefferson could feel his temper rising as she tapped Hope's chin, ran a finger over her shoulder. Regina was an expert at finding buttons to push. Threatening Hope was a big, red one and she seemed to like toying with it.

 

"So, you came from Wonderland. Just what is that little world like? Not wonderful, I'd expect."

 

"Different from here, your Majesty."

 

"Oh, 'your Majesty' she has manners. Have you a queen in your world as well?" Regina bent over to look Hope in the eyes.

 

"Three queens, ma'am."

 

"Hmm… I expect that'll change soon. Anyway, Jefferson, _thank you_ for your daring retrieval of my purest heart. It will prove priceless, I'm sure, but to add to my last price, for… pain and suffering, I brought you this." She gestured back to one of her guardsmen who stepped forward with a small parcel.

 

"A tea chest," she simpered at Hope. "A little bird told me your new companion was fond of tea. Consider it a welcoming gift, as well."

 

Regina placed the luxuriant golden chest in Hope's hands. "Oh, please, run along, be my guest." She waved to the kitchen and Hope shuffled off hesitantly to put the chest to use.

 

Jefferson eyed Regina coldly. He knew that wasn't a tea chest. She locked him with cold eyes. Leaned over until she was only an inch from his face.

 

"Threaten to disobey me again, Jefferson, offer even a peep of dissent and I'll use that chest for what it's really made. And it won't be _your_ heart."

 

Regina leaned away smoothly, transitioning her glower into an unguent smile as Hope padded back over. "Do you like it, Hope?"

 

"It's quite lovely, thank you, your Majesty."

 

" _You're welcome_ , Hope. Do enjoy it. I had it specially made, just for you."

 

Hope offered a polite smile and a curtsey. Jefferson felt like he was going to be sick.

 

"Well, I'd better be off, Jefferson, Hope. Maybe one day I'll stop by and have a cup of tea with you both." She gave him one last, threating glance and turned away. "Good day!"

 

"Good day, your Majesty," Hope squeaked.

 

"Your Majesty," Jefferson spit between clenched teeth. One threat was enough, holding Hope's life over his head. The second was unnecessary. She would be checking in on them. Stop by for tea? More like stop by for a heart, just in case. He felt like he could spit fire.

 

"Jefferson? What was that all about?"

 

"Just the Queen, staking her claim. We're going to have to be careful. You've caught her eye."

 

"And the chest?" Hope had known.

 

"Yes, it's… not for tea."

 

"I figured." She edged over to the arm of his chair, sat and twiddled her fingers nervously. "Any chance we could move somewhere else?"

 

"I suppose we could ask Snow White how that worked out for her."

 

"Isn't she a bandit living on the run?"

 

"That she is."

 

"Bandersnatch."

 

"I think…" Jefferson groaned quietly as he stood up for the first time on his own. "I think that perhaps it is time that I started paying better attention when you chatter on about plants."

 

"Yes, and perhaps start saving your valuables… keeping them at hand."

 

"Indeed." He gathered Hope to him, squeezed her tight and nuzzled his nose in her hair. "Close at hand… Now, I think I'd love to have a bath. You've done a fine job toweling me clean but--"

 

"No, no. You need it. You're beginning to smell." She shoved him away playfully, waved a hand in front of her nose. "Go on. I'll get it started for you."

 

"So…" Hope said with some hesitation later that evening. "Just how healed are you?"

 

Jefferson sat down on the other side of his bed, sinking into the mattress and sighing at the idea of finally sleeping on it again. "I walked up here didn't I? On my own."

 

"You did. And you bathed and you helped me bring in parsnips for dinner and even harvested pine needles with me. Yes. I know, you've been very proud all day. But you _were_ limping slightly." She folded down the blankets, yanked them out from under him on his side as well.

 

"My leg got tired quicker. It's been out of use for some time, I think it has some catching up to do."

 

"Mm-hmm. Alright. So, you're fully recovered."

 

He leaned over to unlace his boots. "I'd say so. Hey, are you staying in here with me tonight?"

 

Hope's laugh cascaded over him like sunshine. "Why of course, silly! All those nights with you on the pallet just made me keener to make up for my foibles before. Besides, you sleep so heavily, I won't keep you up with my lamp as I read."

 

Jefferson nodded and sat up to remove his waistcoat, his scarf, his shirt. He was going to hold her tight as they slept that night. Keep her close. "Would you like me to bring up an extra wick--"

 

She caught him as he turned. Kneeling on the bed she pulled his face to hers, reached inside his trousers. He kissed her back before hopping away in surprise.

 

"Hope! What are you doing?" He could still feel where her fingers had been.

 

"You said you were all better. And before you got a spear through your leg, you'd promised you would make up for the interruption when you got back... I've waited four days. And we both know I'm no master of subtlety or seduction, so I figured I'd go right for it."

 

"That you did." He fidgeted trying to make the pressure under his trousers' laces less imposing. "You're… you're good at this. Works for you."

 

"Yes, tactless tour d' force. Completely within my range of talents." Hope crawled to the edge of his side of the bed, tugged him back to her by the waist of his pants. "Do I need to make an announcement or--"

 

"No. Got the message, loud and clear. I was a little surprised, that's all."

 

"Mmm. Good surprise?"

 

Jefferson let his eyes roll shut as she reached into his shorts again. "Good. Always good."

 

She freed him rather quickly and, after making herself comfortable with the process, reached up to kiss him as well. She was a natural. After days of constant throbbing pain seeping through to every corner of his body, the opposite happening overtook him quickly.

 

"Wait." Jefferson breathed, just barely able to say the word. He removed her hand gently, put it instead on his shoulder with her other. "You keep at it like that and the night will be over in only a moment."

 

Hope grinned with her own brand of mischief. "That would be a shame, but I'm curious as to the process."

 

He stopped her hand before it reached its goal. "I assure you it's not as enjoyable as the alternative. Come here."

 

She pouted for a brief second but allowed him to lay her down, to crawl atop her. "You've been unwell. _Perhaps_ … perhaps you should let me do… the work."

 

"Perhaps, but on the other hand, you've been doing everything for me. _Perhaps_ I should take care of you, do things myself."

 

Hope crooned under his lips as they skated over her neck and shoulders bare of chemise. "A case could be made either way, I suppose."

 

"You suppose."

 

"I do." She stroked through his hair, down his back, leaning into his mouth. "And what about your leg? What if it gets tired?"

 

"Then I'll stop using it." He reached down between her legs, delved through the layers of garments to check how ready she was. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. "Oh."

 

"What?" Hope rocked into his hand, already more than ready.

 

"You're… I've hardly touched you."

 

"I've been thinking about this for a little while. Since you took you bath really." Hope bit down on his earlobe, tugged. "Watching you undress helped as well."

 

That made him ache. He ripped her shorts off too hard, split one of their seams. Hope just laughed at the look on his face and kicked them away.

 

"Here, allow me. I don't want to have to make another of these too." She pulled the shift over her head and sat back completely bare.

 

He liked the way she did these things with such ease, the confidence she'd acquired. She let him stare at her without blushing or covering herself, she trusted him, or enjoyed his attention. Either way it was exciting. As he worked off his trousers the rest of the way she even let her hand come to rest on herself, met his eye before closing hers in pleasure. Everything went from his mind at that moment, he sat back and stroked himself as she rubbed little circles and made herself moan.

 

"Are you going to do this, or shall I just continue myself?"

 

Jefferson looked away from her hand. She'd been watching him, he didn't know for how long. "Since when do you do that?"

 

Hope tilted her head to the side, said with all innocence, "who's to say it's something new?"

 

He didn't believe her but that didn't matter. It had her desired effect, the image of her touching herself invaded his mind, drove him a little crazy. The caution he'd used before was lost. He pushed inside of her quickly and without warning, growling almost hungrily as he did so. Hope merely gasped, sank her fingers into his skin and held on as he thrust back and again.

 

An indeterminate amount of time later, her voice called him back. At first he panicked, worried that he'd lost control and hurt her. She'd said his name, sometimes she did that to scold, to call his attention. But no. Her back was arched, hips jumping up with his hands, her arms were stretched above her searching for purchase. At some point, he'd sat back, pulled her hips up to him and she'd lost her hold on him.

 

Hope was on the precipice. Her skin was flushed, covered in a light sheen and her body was as tight as bowstring. He could spare a hand. Moving one from her hip he tucked a thumb against her and pressed down. That did it. She gasped and clawed the bed around her, jerking and finally stilling with a strained moan. Jefferson leaned forward and dipped deeper as she undulated around him. As she relaxed he took her by one of her ankles, pulled it up to hook over his shoulder, pressed himself flush to her.

 

Hope's eyes flew open. She seemed stirred by the change. He took his time like that, enjoying her expressions as he worked in and out of her. Sated, however, with the slower pace he brought her other leg to rest on his shoulder and drove in harder and faster. He couldn't keep from groaning at the sensation, she was tight and warm and yet he wasn't going to hurt her, not this way so he could let go. Hope was keening hard, whining almost as he panted over her. She grew impatient of him deciphering her noises and reached down to take care of it herself. When she clapped down on him with her touch he felt breathless. When she began grunting, building to little screams he felt the tug, deep within and he was not long for lasting afterwards.

  
Hope was still urging him on beneath him but he jerked into her a few futile times before collapsing onto one arm, folding her like an accordion.

 

"Jefferson," she whimpered, but there was nothing he could do, he was spent. Her kisses showered over him, his face, neck, chest, arms and shoulders, everywhere she could reach once she'd dismounted her legs from him. He was still inside of her and her movements made him wince.

 

"I can't… I'm sorry." It was all he could do to stay supported on his arms above her.

 

"Just… just… stay where you are." She jostled until his pelvis was flush against hers and then reached down to finish things with her fingers, as she'd threatened to earlier. Stroking, rubbing and panting she pushed herself to silent gasps, grinding into him.

 

Jefferson watched with a combination of exhaustion and uninvited, renewed desire. With her rocking and flexing against and around him he couldn't help it, weary as he was. Even as she was tensed to break, Hope stretched a tiny smile when he fluttered to life inside of her. She relaxed, slowing her tempo and un-bowing her back. She wanted him to take care of it.

 

"That worked," she commented, impressed with herself apparently.

 

"Yes, it worked," Jefferson replied, already regretting it. He truly was exhausted. Nonetheless he twisted his hips against her as he filled her again.

 

Hope gave him a long, wet moan as he pushed in completely, ready. It was worth the way his body was screaming at him. She didn't last long, he saw to that, finishing her in quick shallow thrusts that never left her button untouched.

 

"Shh, shh," he patted her hip as she fell limp on the bed. She'd screamed rather loudly this time. It was good he didn't have neighbors.

 

When she opened her eyes to see why he'd stopped he patted her hip once more. "Up."

 

She sat up, scooting her hips away from him. She frowned when he slipped out from her still needful. "What?"

 

"We're going to try something new. Turn over."

 

Hope's eyes widened for a second and she watched him carefully even as she positioned herself on her hands and knees. "Like the animals?" She asked quietly.

 

"Like the animals," Jefferson repeated, admiring her from this new angle. He wouldn't last long this way and that was for the best.

 

He slipped her knees further apart and guided himself inside of her. He knew she wouldn't like the lack of intimacy this way, so he reached to pet her as he thrust. She was tired but she offered a few bucks against him before he spilled into her. He hoped he hadn't hurt her, but if he had it had at least been quick.

 

She crawled haltingly to him after he'd flopped onto his back.

 

"Are you mad at me?" She asked. Her little mouth was sewed tight with concern.

 

"No! Gracious, no. Dead tired." He swept the hair out of her face. "You pushed me there, my endurance. I have been laid up, you know?"

 

She giggled and let him pull her onto his chest. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes. We won't do it that way again if you didn't like it."

 

"It was… different."

 

"We won't do it again."

 

"Maybe next time warn me. We should do things for you as well."

 

Jefferson snorted. "Love making is always for the man. That's why I, until this, have been doing things for you. I could wrap it up in under a minute and be perfectly content all the same."

 

"Oh, you quit. You act like you're doing me a favor!"

 

"I am," he answered with a yawn, then smiled. "If you'd done this with another man he perhaps would not have been so generous." She slapped him lightly. "And that would be a mistake on his part seeing how generously you answer favors."

 

"I'll show you generosity." She grumbled back, her smile not hidden in her voice.

 

"Not now, darling. I need to sleep."

 

" _Darling_?" She scoffed. "As if your _act of generosity_ speech wasn't condescending enough."

 

"I didn't mean it," he mumbled into her hair, eyes not staying open any more. "I was only joking."

 

"You're only ever joking, even when you're dying." Her fingers flitted over his face, combed away his hair. "Good night, Jefferson, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A weird place to end a story, I know, but the arc changes a bit thematically after this. It picks up straightaway in the first chapter of "Graced and Graceless."


End file.
